Dark Winds
by ForeverDarkly
Summary: Part 4 of Dark Queen. When odd shifts in the weather start popping up along the East Coast, all eyes in the Supernatural community turn to Tate. She says its not her, Sam, Dean and Fancy believe her, so if it isn't our resident Weather Girl, who is it?
1. Over Cast

**Hey guys! This is _Dark Winds, _sorry for all of you who wanted it to be Dark Miami; this was my original idea and I really like it. But Dark Miami does have a nice ring to it, if I can get anything new, I'll think about using it. Anyways, back to business, I know I just finished Dark Grounds the other day but I've had this chapter typed and ready to go for about two weeks and I couldn't wait to post it anymore. This is the longest 'intro' chapter I've written for any of the _Dark Queen_ stories; its like seven pages in Word. I really like it and still have no idea where the idea for this came from; watching way too much TV. So I'll shut up and let you guys read. Oh! One more thing before I forget, I promise I will, as soon as I get something new, update _Meeting in the Dark, _right now its just one of those things I can't wrap my head around. But I'll start updating it soon. Okay, now I'm really shutting up; keep reading and reviewing.

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****Over Cast**

Palm trees swayed slightly in the warm sea water filled breeze, the Bermuda grass under foot was still stiff and sturdy, no matter the weight pressed down upon it or the wind. A crowd of black clothes filled the small grassy area, absorbing the warm rays given off by the blinding Florida sun; it was too warm for February. A loaming black storm cloud hovered over head, just one, and almost seemed fitting; matching the somber attitude of the day. Under the cloud tears and sobs were choked on, some in attendance looked down to hide tears and water logged eyes while others just looked off, at something and nothing all at the same time. Sam sat straight backed in his chair, his eyes refusing to meet the sight in front of him. Next to him sat Dean, Sam was afraid to look that way too, not knowing if he'd see Dean crying or doing nothing at all. Fancy came next, her sobs joining the chorus in the rows behind them; her black make-up streaked down her face and held her head up high, proudly displaying the loss etched into her features. Serena sat next to her, her hands folded neatly in her lap and with a stiff movement, brought a tissue up and dabbed at her eyes; an air of elegance and professionalism still hanging around her. Ben wasn't there, but that wasn't a surprise; if the man could he wouldn't show up for his own funeral. In the seat behind Sam sat Richard Kirk and his mother Pat, her hand wrapped tightly around her son's. Richy sat there, stone stiff, in his dress blues with his police hat resting silently in his lap and Pat next to him in a simple black dress; nothing she could've picked out would have upstaged the impressive appearance her oldest son made. The wrinkles around her eyes caught the dripping remains of her make up and shadowed her reddened eyes. Co-workers, friends, college acquaintances, an old room mate or two and fellow hunters filled the rest of the chairs behind Sam and the rest of the front row. In total, about fifty people; that was the way it should be, a small service.

"I will now open the podium to friends and family close to the deceased." Pastor Jim said, moving away from the microphone and waving his hand to whoever wanted to step up first. Placing his hat in his mother's lap, Richy stood and walked numbly toward the podium, giving Jim a slight smile as a 'thank you' when he gave him the floor.

"I met her about six years ago when my brother Jake brought her to our mother's house for Thanksgiving. She literally breezed in the door like she owned the place and took over. She sat down in my father's chair, or what was my father's chair before he died, and kicked her feet up onto my great grandmother's coffee table that was given to my mother as a wedding present. I didn't like her at first and I never really told her how much I cared about her. But she grew on me, the way an annoying younger sibling grows on you and I learned to love her. I respected her and protected her. Sure, she broke Jake's heart when she didn't agree to marry him, but I know she still loved him. At least now, I know she's up there watching over my baby brother." Richy said, tears collecting in his eyes.

As Richy went back to his seat, a young man who looked a little older than Sam; wearing a slate gray suit, brushed past and up to the podium. Before he said anything, he cleared his throat, rung his hands nervously together and let out a deep breath. Sam recognized him from a few pictures, Micah Rockwell from the Boston Herald.

"She was the one who always spoke at meetings, press conferences and all that stuff, as you can see I'm not good at speaking in front of people. What can I say about her? She was my friend, threatened my life one too many times to count but I loved her. I mean, I really did. She was a ball buster that's for sure; she handled things like no one else I know. A real fighter, I know that's how she must've gone; fighting the entire time. Never a dull moment when she was around either, you'd walk into our office and there would be AC/DC or Black Sabbath blasting. And at office parties, you'd think they'd be the most boring things ever, nope. Not with her around; it went from high society months in advance planned event to all out chaos. She was something else. I'm gonna miss her." Micah ended softly before covering the mic with his hand and whispering something to Jim. Jim nodded and when Micah stepped down off the platform, he placed something thin on top of the coffin.

"It's the CD she played in the office." He said with a smile and then went to his seat. Behind Micah, a few seats back, another man stood and as he came up, he walked over to Fancy and hugged her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Up at the mic he smiled and bit down on his lip.

"I know not a lot of people know who I am and I really haven't kept in contact with her in a while, but I was her room mate back in college. She was the first person I actually showed any of my work to and I was the first person who actually saw that she was damn good photographer. I've never met anyone with such an eye like her; she could look at anything and see art in it. I remember one time, after a party we had, we were cleaning up and someone had set up empty beer cups into a tower and stuck a little plastic umbrella through the bottom of the top one. She yelled 'Max you touch that and I'll kill you!' She ran and got her camera. I think she took an entire roll of these cups. It was amazing. She was amazing to watch work. The dedication and determination that just rolled off of her, it made you want to work better. I promised her, last time we spoke on the phone, she'd be a model for my newest painting, but umh…yeah. I'm so very sorry." Max said, tugging at his ear ring as he looked at Sam and then over to Dean. Sam nodded and smiled back warmly in return.

For the first time, from a seat a few seats away from Richy stood a young woman with fiery copper colored hair and black wire framed glasses. Trish had worked at the news paper as her assistant; she brought in new reports and articles and would sometimes smuggle in new CDs for the office. She smiled as she passed Sam and then with her finger nail, gently tapped the mic.

"Hi. I worked with her at the paper. She actually hired me…." The words all began to blur in Dean's mind and he seemed to 'space out', far away from where he sat in between Sam and Serena. He went somewhere where he knew Sam couldn't reach him if he tried and stayed there, just collecting his thoughts.

_"Jesus Christ Tate, why'd you leave? Why the hell did you leave?"_ While emotions were running high around Dean, the internal battle waging within his mind was nearly more than he could handle.

_"How could you leave me Tate? How could you leave me and Sammy alone again? Who the hell is going to calm me down after a fight with my dad? You always knew what to tell me when he pissed me off. My god... Tate... "_Dean blinked a few times, and felt a hot tear stream down his face.

_"We had some good goddamn times Tate. All those times when we'd just look at each other and laugh. You were the only one Tate. You were the only one who did that to me, but I never told you. I loved- love you so much Tate and I'm never going to stop loving you. I would have married your crazy ass Tate."_ Dean took in a sharp breath and swatted at a stray tear.

_"Remember that time you said you'd haunt my 'sorry ass' if you ever died? I laughed at you because I thought it would never happen..."_

Dean came back into his own body, his mind filling the space that he floated away from, when he heard Bobby's rough voice come through the speaker in front of him. Looking up at the platform he saw the older hunter fidgeting in the suit he had been put in at Serena's orders and bit back a laugh when he tugged at his tie.

"I hate this outfit, I hope you know that Serena, but I'm only doing this for Tatum. I'll tell you one thing that everyone who's already spoken forgot to mention, sure she was sweet when she wanted to be, fun, artistic, but she had one hell of a temper; she got that from her father. Tate didn't like to be told no or when to stop or when enough was enough. She was a hell of a fighter, I remember she beat up Dean once, knocked him out and just stood back and laughed. You said something she didn't like, wasn't it about her hair or something?" Dean nodded and Bobby laughed. "That was our Tate; don't insult her in any way shape or form. I've seen her do things no one else saw, when she was thought she was alone and I was behind the corner. She had a fierce temper and when she loved someone she loved them with all her; every part of her heart, every muscle and fiber of her being, she must've gotten that from you Serena. I've seen her kick holes in walls, run cars into things, punch, slap, kick, bite, you name it, she probably did it and I saw it. She had a foul mouth too, filth that came out from those pretty lips. She got that from hanging around all us guys; she just picked it up. Tate was a firecracker, a bitch, a lover, a fighter, a friend, a child, a girl, a woman, an artist, a sister and a pain in the ass. She was everything, she was Tate. Sure, there were times when she stayed at my house with the boys and her brother that I wanted to sneak into her room and smoother her in her sleep, but I think everyone wanted to do that to her. It was the only way to get her; in her sleep she was quiet and you could sneak up on her. But I watched her grow up and I wouldn't change her if you paid me a million dollars. She was a pain in the ass but she was the only daughter I ever knew. I loved her like my own." Bobby roughly swiped away a tear and as he stepped down, looked back toward the parking lot where he found John Winchester leaning back against the bed of his truck; his hands jammed in the front of jeans. Bobby just rolled his eyes, hugged both boys, Serena and Fancy and then went back to his seat. Pastor Jim came back to the microphone and cleared his throat, his eyes already red with tears.

"I know, not many services have the pastor saying personal things about the deceased, but I knew Tate too. I remember meeting her when she was eight; this tough attitude balled into a little girl with pig tails, shorts, a pink shirt and Velcro sneakers. She was the cutest little girl I had ever seen and I was one of the few, like Bobby and John Winchester, who had the privilege of seeing her grow into a brilliant young woman. I miss her already." Pastor Jim stepped down and reached out for Serena's hand, gently leading her up to where he had just stood.

"I didn't get a chance to know my daughter as well as all of you did, I was taken away from my children when they were very young by an accident that left my son, daughter and husband, at the time, thinking I was dead. But when we found each other, thanks to some case she was working on in California, I knew everything would start to change. And it did, I got to get to know her; even if it was just for a few short months. She was so different from what I left behind when she was six and as Bobby said, she was a firecracker. She had such life in her, such a spark, a fiery attitude and such passion; she never stopped talking about what she loved most; her car, photography, Sam and above all else, Dean. I wish I had that kind of love in my life, I did but now….I'm sorry. I'm sorry you all have to be here today for this, I'm sorry this happened and I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry." She rushed back to her seat and allowed herself to fall into her husband's arms; he was sitting behind her. Fancy absently rubbed her arms as she stood and walked over to the podium; her legs shaking the whole time, as if they were ready to fall out from under her at any minute. She swept a piece of her hair back behind her ear and sighed.

"I always figured I'd go first, drink myself to death and have Tate be standing in my place; not the other way round. I met Tate her second day in Boston, she was young, naïve, far from innocent and so fun to corrupt. What I didn't know when I started talking to her was the life she had come from, she told me she wasn't too involved with her father, her mom and brother were dead and she had a best friend and an ex she still loved that she left behind. When I asked her why she left she them all behind she told me she wanted 'normal'. Not understanding where she had come from, I laughed but got her a free drink and found myself sucked into her; she was the most interesting person that had ever darkened my door. She came back the next night and the night after, I figured she was bored, not that she didn't have a place to stay. So on the fifth night I asked her what was up; she didn't have a job, apartment and was living out of her trunk and duffle bag. So I gave her my couch. What I didn't realize was that she didn't just take my couch, she took my entire life. She lived with me for a few months and let me tell you, I've never had the chance to get to know someone like that. I can tell you how she takes her coffee, how long she'll be in shower depending on her mood, her schedule when she worked at the paper and then what she'd do when she'd come home from work. When she moved it was like she took the whole place with her, the place empty. I love her; she's my sister, my other half. The light side to my dark and the dark to my light; its cliché but she completes me. I'm still not sure how this happened or why I'm here saying this, but she's gone. I don't know if you can feel it, but I can. I feel like I'm half dead too, like half of me is in that box. Well it is; half of me is in there." Fancy didn't end in tears or a wail; she just moved away from the podium and went back down to her seat. She sat back down in the chair, crossed her leg over her other knee and laced her fingers together, dropping them into her lap. Sam stood once she was comfortable and felt himself pale; he had lost Jessica but it never felt like this. He had felt empty and alone, but it had gone away. But it wasn't this strong after she died, it felt like the hole inside of him was just getting bigger and bigger, eating him and he knew this one would probably eat him alive. He felt sick and this close to throwing every small amount of food he had in his system up right on his rented shoes. But he didn't, he took a deep breath and walked toward the podium; it was the longest four steps of his life.

"I don't know what to say. I can't think of anything right now; how do you do this? I've lost a lot in my life but it never felt this bad. Tate was everything to me; she was my best friend who I told my secrets to, my sister who protected me when Dean couldn't or wasn't able to, my mom when I needed to be taken care of; everything. I can't…this isn't right. I can't…its like I can't function right. I don't know what to do or how to act; I don't know what's the right or wrong thing to say. I didn't even know what tie matched this morning and I'm wearing a black suit. She's always been there, in everything. When I was small and had started going to school, if one of our dads wasn't around and Dean was still sleeping, she'd make my lunch. When I got older, she taught me to drive; if you've seen her drive you know how scared I was. In high school she took me from and to school, even after I got my license, she wanted to make sure I got there and back all right. When Dean told me how to 'get' girls, she told me how he was wrong and told me what girls really liked; I remembered what she said when I asked Jessica out for the first time. When I called her and told her I got into Stanford, she flew out to California just for a day to see me get comfortable. She stopped down at a store and bought a small ice cream cake. And with a tube of icing wrote 'Congrats Sammy' on it; she gave me a party in my first shitty little dorm. She was the only one who did that; against everything my dad, her dad and Dean had said. She taught me so much, not just how to shoot a gun or throw a knife. She taught me things you could only learn from Tate; how to stop and enjoy things around you, even if you're stuck in the back of a car, how to make everything count and not regret a damn thing and how to hold a 35 mm camera the right way. See, she was everything. I don't know what I'm…." And just like that, with looking over to where the flower covered casket lay; violets covering the entire wooden coffin, he stopped and closed his mouth. There was nothing left for him to say; he had run out of words. Taking a deep breath, he walked off the stage, got a fierce hug from Nero, Alana and Griffin; who had probably just poofed in, and then sat back down next to Dean. Dean looked at his younger brother and sighed; reality had just struck home and it was his turn. Pushing up off the chair, everyone around him went silent as he walked to take Sam's place. Standing up there, he adjusted the mic's neck to a height good for him and looked to the casket. He had never seen so many violets in one place before; but even with all that purple they weren't her purple. He looked out at the people in front of him and sighed, raking a hand through his short hair; pausing for a minute to remember she had always done this. He dropped his hand too fast and it landed firmly on the wooden stand in front of him. With a smirk and a broken laugh he cleared his throat.

"I loved her, I loved Tate very much. I have since I was fourteen." He cleared his throat a second time and started to speak again "I...Tate...thank you all for coming." Ducking his head, he walked off the same way he had come and sat back in his seat. Sam felt the hole in him flare up with anger as he watched Dean adjust his tie. Serena flew into another round of body wracking sobs and he swore he saw the fires of Hell erupt in Fancy's brown eyes. Everyone around them were in shock, murmuring to their neighbor about what Dean had done but it all stopped when Fancy advanced on him, scalding hot tears rolling down her face.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" She yelled, her voice breaking down into a shriek.

"Nothing Fancy, that's all I had to say."

"That's bullshit and you know it! You were with Tate for almost fifteen years and all you have to say is that you loved her! You bastard!"

"Fancy what do you want me to do? Cry? Break down? Loose my fucking mind? No, I'm good. Thanks." He said getting up and turning towards the car.

"You're a heartless bastard Dean, I know Tate heard that. Out of all of us, she's probably the most disappointed, the most upset. You just said you loved her, you didn't say a damn thing about anything else. Real nice Dean!" Dean didn't turn around; he kept his back to her.

"Ya know what, how she feels about me is our business; not yours, not Sammy's; ours. So that means, I'll say what I want to say and you'll shut up."

"Dean…"

"Stay out of this Sammy. I'm leaving. I have things to do." Sam watched him walk off to the Impala and past the truck where for the first time they both saw their father. Dean stopped for a second and saw Ben, in a suit and tie, sitting in the front of the cab; starring out the window. He felt his stomach churn, he might not have had said much but he was at least there. Shaking his head, he walked toward the Impala and yanked open the door. The damn car even smelt like her. Rolling down the windows, he put the key in the ignition and turned the radio on full blast. Out of the speakers Steven Tyler screamed 'My Girl'; Tate loved that song.

Sam, working up the nerve, finally walked over to the Impala; leaving a still hysterical Fancy with Serena and leaned in the open passenger's side window. 'My Girl' blared from the speakers and Sam remembered listening to this song all the time when Tate had control of the music. Listening to the words, he watched Dean's face and for a minute, thinking it was a trick of the light, he swore he saw a tear fall. Sam kept listening and soon Steven Tyler's famous screams turned into a high pitched beeping slamming into his ears from somewhere not too far away.

"Oh for God sake's!" A voice came from somewhere else and then the sound of a door opening hit Sam; opening his eyes he saw he was in the guest room at Tate's apartment. Opening them all the way, he let everything around him sink in; the bed below him, the pillow under his head, the sheets and blanket on top of him and the hurried pounding in his skull. The telltale pain brought everything into focus; what he had just seen was a vision, a vision of Tate's funeral. If he could barely handle it there, how could he handle it if really played out?

"Dude, turn that damn thing off!" Tate snapped, her glasses resting on her nose, long hair pulled into a messy bun and still was running around in her pajamas. "Sam, did you hear me?" Sam came out of it when she clapped her hands together in front of his nose. "There ya go. Wake up; its almost ten in the morning. I don't like this new thing you've got going on Sam, sleeping late. It creeps me out a little. Fancy's out of bed already. And why didn't you wake up with the alarm?" He just starred at her, watching her make the noise stop.

"Sam? Sammy? Kiddo, look at me." She said, sitting in front of him. "Sammy?" She let out a shriek when he lunged at her and pulled her into his arms; hugging her tighter than she liked that early in the morning. She didn't know what it was, a nightmare or what, but whatever it was, he was holding onto her as if life depended on it.

"I can't breathe Kiddo!" She gasped out, flicking him behind the ear. He let her go, only to push her back and look her straight in the eyes. "Rough night Sammy? Have a nightmare? What happened, me and Fancy switched places?" She asked, tugging at his hair.

"Yeah, a nightmare."


	2. Travel Plans

**Sorry this took kinda long to update, but I've been busy this week and this was nagging at me; I couldn't get it just right. Anyways, I finally did and here we are. I hope you guys like this.

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****Chapter 2- Travel Plans**

Sam picked at the breakfast Tate had put out on the table and starred deeply into his cup of now cold coffee; hoping maybe if he starred long enough he'd be able to burn the vision out of his head. But it refused to leave him; he kept seeing it play out over and over again. Pushing around the yellow scrambled eggs with his fork, a small grin quirked at the corners of his mouth; the only good thing about his vision was he finally knew where Tate stood with Dean and now he'd have something to use against him next time tempers flared.

Dean sat next to Sam hunched over the paper, reading yet another article about the freak weather going on down south; the hurricane in Florida, almost three feet of snow in Austin and up in Maine the temperature was reaching ninety and it was the middle of February. Tate and Fancy both sat at the island counter on the two bar stools Tate had in there; Fancy was muttering to herself and scribbling something else she forgot down onto a list for her brother about the bar while Tate clicked from page to page on her laptop. Hearing the sound of a fork against one of her plates, she looked up and watched Sam move his food from one side to the other.

"Kiddo, I know I'm not a good cook and I also know my scrambled eggs are edible. So, if you'd like to add insult to injury the room service menu is in the drawer by the stove."

"Huh?" He asked, looking up at her.

"What's wrong Sam? You've been acting weird all morning." She asked, sliding down off her stool and walking over to the kitchen table to sit backwards on one of the empty chairs.

"Nothing, I'm just tired that's all. I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure? I mean it doesn't have anything to do with that nightmare you had, right?"

"Nightmare? What kind Sammy?" Dean asked, setting the paper aside.

"Just a nightmare, nothing special."

"Doesn't sound like 'nothing special'."

"Well it was, just a bad dream." Tate rolled her eyes as she ruffled Sam's hair, and looked back over to Fancy.

"I want to leave for Miami later on."

"What time later on?"

"Like after lunch maybe, why Fance?"

"I need to go find Kyle and give him this stuff." She said getting off the stool and grabbing her coat. "I'll be back later."

"Don't threaten, please." Dean called watching her leave and then flip him off. Tate sighed as she stood up and walked away from the table, hitting Dean as she went to put her laptop away.

"What was that for?"

"Can't you guys get along and grow up?"

"Her first."

"Child."

"Whatever."

"Dean!"

"Yeah, I know."

"Yeah, I hope you do."

"Where are you going?"

"To pack up my camera equipment. Case or no case, I want pictures from the beach."

"So you have to bring your dark room?"

"Yeah, it goes in my car right above the 'armory'. Don't worry, you don't have to deal with it."

"We'll be there a week! You won't get anything done!"

"Yes I will. I'm starting to pack, I want to leave by one, so maybe you two should start moving?"

"Yes master."

"Bite me."

"Where?"

"Dean!"

"Again, I know."

"Asshole." Tate muttered as she walked out of the kitchen, leaving Dean to glare at Sam as he tried not to laugh. Arching an eye brow and making sure Tate had really left, he leaned across the table and looked at Sam.

"What Dean?"

"What was the 'nightmare' about?"

"Nothing, I'm telling you."

"I don't believe you." Sam leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the table top and sighed.

"All right, it was a vision."

"I knew it. Tell me."

With a smirk Sam looked at his brother and waiting, baiting him. He could tell him all about the vision and risk getting hit or tell him and elaborate about one certain aspect. Sam picked the latter.

"Okay, I saw you and Tate getting married." Sam bit back a laugh as Dean nearly choked on his coffee. With his eyes watering and a cough barking out from his lips, he looked at Sam and tried to catch his breath.

"…come again?"

"You heard me, I saw you two getting married. A big white wedding, with a matching gown, purple bridesmaids dresses, ties, flowers, a horse drawn carriage at the end and doves. The whole thing." Dean looked like he had swallowed a lemon followed by a broken shot glass.

"You're kidding?"

"Dean, I don't kid about my visions. And besides, if I saw it, it's bound to come true."

"I hate you." He said, pushing away from the table and pouring the rest of his coffee down the sink. "If you tell her any of that, I'll kill you." He warned as he left the kitchen and left Sam sitting at the table. Scrubbing his hands over his face, Sam sighed and dropped his head onto the table.

"I can't tell her about the vision anyways, it would kill her and then it would come true too fast." He mumbled into the table top. He'd have to tell her sometime; but the question was when.

A few hours later, Tate dropped her duffle bag into the trunk of the Mustang and with a whine Scarlet's shocks let out a complaint. Her traveling dark room was loaded, along with the fully restocked weapons chest and her own duffle.

"Sorry baby, I know it's a lot. But once we get to Miami, I'll take everything out. Just be thankful Fancy's stuff is going in her own car." She said, looking over to the midnight black El Camino parked next to the Impala; it looked like a small car show in the Hilton's parking lot. Under the deep blue stretch of material, Tate knew Fancy had loaded all her bags and was ready to go; so was the Impala. Closing the trunk with a slam, she ran her hand over the cherry red paint and turned in time to see Sam walking out from the side exit of the building. Hopping up onto the lid, she watched him walk over to her and smiled when he got close enough, tugging him by his coat.

"Wanna tell me what's going on in your head Sammy? You've been weird all day."

"Nothing's wrong Tate."

"Okay, I'll buy that, for now. Where are Dean and Fance?"

"Upstairs fighting." Tate rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

"It never ends. So, who you riding with? Fance is bringing Stella along with us."

"Who's Stella?"

"Scarlet's friend; the black El Camino next to the Impala." She watched Sam's eyes travel over to the black car and smiled when they went wide.

"Wow."

"You better believe it, so you've got your choice, Stella, Scarlet or the Impala."

"Scarlet."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I umh…need to talk to you about something." He said, jamming his hands into his front pockets. It was now or never; he needed to tell her what he had seen.


	3. Pit Stops and Pit Falls

**Chapter 3- Pit Stops and Pit Falls**

The Mustang's engine roared like a lioness on the prowl as Tate gunned it and flew past Fancy. She eased Scarlet back into the same lane as Fancy and slid gracefully in front of Stella, the midnight black almost blue El Camino. The girls had been playing chicken since they came flying into Pennsylvania an hour earlier. It was only six, the sun was just starting to go down and they were making good time; they had left Boston a little before one that afternoon. Tate watched Fancy carefully in her rear view mirror and smiled when the bartender flipped her the bird.

"Can you guys stop?" Tate looked over to Sam, who was white knuckling it in the passenger's seat and was about to answer him when she heard the familiar growl of the Impala on her left. Flicking her eyes out the driver's window, she watched him come flying past her on the empty back road and felt her lip curl when he flicked on his blinker. He slid in front of her, just like she had done to Fancy and waved at her in his mirror. The girls had been playing by themselves, dodging and sliding up along the long stretch of empty road without Dean getting involved and now he wanted to play too? No way.

"Oh hell no, he's not getting away with that. He didn't want to play before, no." She pressed down on the gas and swerved out into the empty on coming lane. Scarlet let out a shriek as Tate pushed her up to almost ninety miles per hour and easily breezed past Dean, blowing him a kiss as she went. She slid back into the lane a quarter of a mile later, putting a good distance between her and Dean and Fancy. Slowing the car back down to an even sixty, she heard Sam let out a breath he had been holding in and laughed.

"What's wrong Sammy?"

"You're going to give me a heart attack."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, making my vision come true faster." He mumbled, but when he heard the sound of gravel under the tires he realized Tate had pulled off onto the shoulder and obviously had heard him.

"Making your vision come true faster? Spill it now, Samuel. Is that why you wanted to ride with me?" She asked as she roughly threw the Mustang into park. Sam fiddled with a string on his hoodie and kept his eyes cast down until Tate grabbed him by the chin, making him look at her. "Tell me."

"Are you sure?"

"Do I look like I'm not?"

"All right, but I'm warning you, you're not going to like it."

"Sam."

"Okay. I saw your funeral Tate. We buried you in some cemetery in Florida. Everyone was there and Dean was an ass like always. But it was your funeral Tate, you died." It was Tate's turn to look down; she found a spot on the floorboard and starred at it.

"Oh."

"That's it?"

"Sammy what do you want me to say? You saw my funeral! I'm going to die before we leave Miami! I have a dead line, an expiration date! I'm going to die! Is that what you want?! Me to come to terms with this?!"

"No."

"Than what? Sammy, I'm going to die!"

"I won't let you."

"You have no choice; your visions always come true." She said as the Impala and El Camino pulled off onto the shoulder behind her. "Great!" She yelled, slamming her hand into the steering wheel.

"What?"

"Do Dean and Fancy know?"

"No, I actually told Dean I saw you two getting married and he nearly choked." Tate looked over at him and shot him a cold look. "Sorry, it was funny at the time."

"Yeah well you can cross that off the list, there's never going to be a wedding. Hell, I won't even make it to my eye doctor's appointment; it's in two weeks. I'll be six feet under by that time."

"You'll make it to the doctor and you'll get married. I'll make sure of it."

"Sam, it's too late. You saw it, I'm done." She said, looking back at the Impala through her rear view mirror. "Ya know I used to think I'd never get married because that's just not the way Dean is, not that I'd die before he ever worked up the nerve to actually ask me." She said and then quickly looked down at her nails, flicking off some of the paint.

"I'm sorry Tate."

"Yeah well, whatcha gonna do about it? Nothing. Good, I'm glad that's our plan. Now be quiet and let me drive. And I swear to God Samuel, you tell Dean or Fancy, I'm taking you with me."

The Mustang kicked a wave of dust up onto the hood of the Impala as its tires spun out until Tate got her back on the road and with a roar from her engine, she took off again. Dean was just about to put the Impala back in drive when he heard his cell phone ring. Grabbing it off his seat, he flipped it open and pushed 'talk'.

"Yeah Fance?"

"What was that all about?"

"Dunno, we'll ask her at the next stop."

"All right. I'll race ya there." And then the line went dead on Fancy's side and the El Camino screamed back to life. The two black cars followed Tate for a good fifty miles, waiting to see when and if she was going to stop. And she did, at a Holiday Inn once they got off the back road and back into normal civilization. With her head on the steering wheel, she looked out from under her arm at Sam and unlocked the doors.

"Go get three rooms and ask if they have a bar."

"Three rooms?"

"I want to be alone.

"Tate…."

"And make sure my room is on a different floor, I mean it I want to be alone."

"Tate, look…"

"Please just do what I said Sammy. I'm not in the mood." He didn't say anymore and got out of the car. Once he was gone, Tate sat upright in her seat and leaned her head back against the head rest. She jumped when she felt tears falling down her face, she didn't cry. Crying was something that had been deleted from the King genes long ago. She didn't cry. She wasn't allowed to. Tate was the strong one, the one that didn't break down and didn't loose her cool. She was Dean but better at it, she could hide emotions better and knew how to keep herself guarded. She was the strong one.

"Not anymore, you're the one going to die." She said to the ceiling. "And you don't even know how it's going to happen. So you have no way of knowing what to be prepared for. I'd suggest start saying your goodbyes now King." She told the ceiling, her eyes clamped shut. She was in the middle of making her own mental version of her non existent will when the door opened again and Sam handed her a room key.

"Room 407, fourth floor. The three of us are in rooms 209 and 210, second floor." She nodded as she slipped the key into her pocket and then got out, walking to the trunk; pushing past Sam as she went. She pulled her duffle bag out, threw it over her shoulder and took one last quick glance to her left. Dean, Sam and Fancy were two spaces over at the other two cars and without a word; she slipped into the shadows and headed toward the building, toward her room and whatever else she had to do before the dark night sky gave way to sunshine again.


	4. The Eye of the Storm

**Chapter 4- The Eye of the Storm**

Tate sat on the cheap thin rug covering the floor of her hotel room; the air around her filled with the scent of jasmine, and rooted through her duffle bag. At the bottom, under clothes, the small faux velvet bag that held her digital camera and boxes of unused film, she found a leather bound book and pulled it into her lap. It was a scrap book, one she had been keeping ever since she was ten when her father bought her very first film loaded camera and started her obsession with pictures. Inside were pictures she had taken of Sam, Dean and Garrett when they were young; some of them had her in them, some were of Ben, John and other hunters she met along the way with their names scribbled on the sides of the now fading construction paper and now the newer pictures included Jake, Richy and Fancy. Looking over each picture, over the past seventeen photo documented years of her life, she stroked each of them with the tip of her finger and felt the memory that lurked below the resin coated paper stir just a little under her skin. Through the pages she watched herself grow older, Sam grow taller, Dean grow into his now perfected looks and Garrett fade away and disappear through the images she had collected. Coming to the newer pictures she found Fancy starring out at her and then page after page of Dean, mostly taken in her apartment, appeared. With tears dripping down onto a picture of Dean sleeping on the couch, everything came back to her in a wave.

Tate was going to die; she didn't even know how it would happen, if she'd wreck the Mustang or be killed by some spirit, demon or another fun filled 'monster'. All she knew was it was going to happen and she had just about a week or so left. Clutching the book to her chest, she curled in on herself, tears fell freely and harder than before; sobs shaking her body. This was harder to accept than she thought. The tears stopped when a loud knock came from the other side of the door; she could tell it was Dean. Pushing herself up off the floor, she put the book away and checked her appearance in the small oval shaped mirror on the wall before walking toward the door. Her eyes were tinged red, she could always tell him she had just taken her contacts out and slowly, while clearing away the tears that had collected on her glasses, made her way to the door. Opening the cheap metal backed door, she found Dean standing there still in his jeans and flannel shirt with the sweats he wore to sleep and a change of clothes under his arm; he had plans on staying the night whether she wanted him there or not.

"Why are you up here alone?" He asked, brushing back a piece of her hair.

"I needed to think, to clear my head."

"What's wrong?"

"Just worried about my mom and all." It wasn't a complete lie; she was worried about her mother and the post hurricane weather down in Florida, but it also wasn't the complete truth either.

"Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"Didn't want to bother you, that's all."

"You don't bother me, you should've told me."

"I know I just needed to deal with it on my own. I need to learn to not have to depend on you so much, sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Wait, not depend on me so much, what's going on? Are you leaving again? I remember you saying that before you packed your stuff."

"No, I'm not moving. Stop worrying." She said, twisting the ever present prism on hanging from her neck around on its chain.

"I'll stop as soon as you stop giving me a reason to."

"Dean please. Knock it off. Are you coming in or not? It's cold out." Tate snapped; changing the subject and walking away from the door, leaving it open as an invitation. She moved back across the floor, going over to the bed that wasn't covered in her things and dropped down onto it, landing right in the middle. Dean followed, closing the door behind him, dropped his clothes on the other bed and sat behind her, pulling her back into him. With her head tucked under his chin, Dean looked down at her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Tate, what's wrong? You're not telling me something."

"I'm fine."

"Does this have to do with Sam's vision?" Tate's heart stopped for a second and her breath hitched, not knowing what he'd say next. "Did he tell you what he saw? Us getting married!" Dean finished with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, that. Yeah, I don't think it would be a 'big white wedding' though, knowing us."

"Yeah, not white at all."

"How does off white sound? Champagne color?" Dean laughed in agreement and pressed a kiss to her throat; her skin warm under the sliver chain.

"So is that all your upset about? Your mom and his vision?"

"Yeah, that's about it De." She told him as she tucked her legs up under her chin. And that was the truth; she was upset about her mother and the vision, just more so than Dean knew. They sat that way, in silence, for nearly a half hour before Tate broke it.

"You know I love you right Dean?" She asked, toying with a string on her shirt and plucked it off the black material, dropping it on the bed spread.

"I know, why are you asking?"

"Just making sure you knew."

"Tate...?"

"Promise me something all right?"

"What?" She didn't look at him; she grabbed him by one of his wrists, dragging his hand into her lap, and with her own fingers, drew tiny designs along his palm.

"Promise me that no matter what happens on this hunt, no matter what, at the end of it, you'll take Sammy and Fancy and leave Miami."

"What are you talking about? What's going on?"

"Nothing yet, just listen to me. You'll do what I said and get out of Miami, take the two of them and get out there. I don't want you sticking around."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, just promise me."

"Not until I know why."

"Isn't me asking you to do this enough of a reason why?"

"Tate…"

"No, you'll listen to me and whenever this case ends, the three of you will leave."

"Tate…fine."

"One more thing, you have to take care of them, take care of Sammy and Fance. They need someone to take care of them and they need each other, I know you're the right person to push Sam to her. You can make your brother see what's right in front of his face."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Ask your brother." Tate said, pulling out of his arms and getting up to the lights out. Once in the dark; even the TV was off and she normally slept with the TV on she said the noise from whatever was on helped her sleep, she stretched out on the bed with the blankets pulled up around her neck and closed her eyes.

"Go to sleep Dean." Was the last thing she said before she drifted off. Her dreams were no better than the world around her, her subconscious was twisting and turning, trying to figure out what would happen over the next few days. The next morning; early enough to see the graying sky start to turn that sun rise pink color, after banging on doors and repacking the cars, the four of them headed out of the parking lot. Tate led the way, with Fancy behind her and the guys in the back. Tate had put the top down on the Mustang and turned the music up as loud as she could; loud enough that everyone in a twenty mile radius knew she was listening to Journey.

A day and a half later; a hotel for the night, a crappy diner, three filthy back road horror movie perfect gas stations and a grungy truck stop later, the three muscle cars rumbled into Florida and down a debris covered Miami right on the beach suburb.

"We're looking for a beige house, number two fifty six, it should be on the left." Tate said into her cell phone.

"Kingy, I don't even know what street we're on."

"Not the right one….shit. We need umh…" Tate reached for the directions her mother had emailed her. "Beige house, two fifty six, on the left hand side of Southbay Avenue."

"See, directions help. Kingy, what's going on with you? You're being weirder than normal." Tate laughed on her side of the phone as she turned down onto Southbay.

"I'm fine. I just want to get this case going."

"All right. Hey beige on the left!" Tate looked where she figured Fancy was looking and found her mother's house.

"Bingo." Just like that the line went dead. Tate tossed her phone back into her bag and pulled in the driveway next to a pick up truck; not her mother's kind of car. Killing the engine, she got out of the Mustang and headed for the front door.


	5. Rebel Child

**Hey guys. I really liked this chapter for a couple of reasons: 1. The Tate and Fancy conversation actually did happen between me and my friend Riss, 2. I brought in a new character that I really like and is kind of mirrored of my younger sister, did that just give anything away? lol. Anyways, the whole idea for this chapter came from watching back to back episodes of _Criss Angel: Mindfreak _while doing a 'commentary' of the show over AIM with your friend and listening to Gretchen Wilson's song _Rebel Child_ while watching said TV show and talking to said friend on AIM. And its true, the Tate and Fancy conversation did really happen; when you read it the whole discription of what's on the TV, that's something that me and my friend actually said. This what happens when both of us like the same guy, its funny. So enough with my ramblings, I hope you guys like this chapter as much as I do and keep the good reviews coming. B.E**

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**Chapter 5-Rebel Child**

Sixteen year old Danielle Summers sat in her living room idly flipping through the channels and yawned; TV sucked. She jumped when she heard a knock on the front door and looked back over the couch into the kitchen.

"Ma! Ma! Mom! The door!" Her mother was probably up painting in her studio or in her dark room, so she wouldn't hear her daughter call her anyways. With a sigh, Dani pushed herself off the couch and made her way over to the door.

"I finally find something to watch and there's a knock on the door. I hope I set the DVD to record the next couple episodes." She muttered as AGE went to a commercial; Criss Angel and his latest stunt flicking over to some sale at J.C Penny's. Pulling open the door, Dani looked to see who was standing there and gasped.

Tate looked at the teenager in front of her and almost laughed, she looked exactly like Tate had at sixteen. The girl probably wasn't much older than sixteen. The two had the same face just with obvious mistakes; her lips weren't as full or as red, her nose was straighter than Tate's and her hair wasn't auburn, it was darker almost a chocolate brown cut to a shaggy shoulder length that tapered here and there with a shock of bright neon blue right over her eyes.

"You must be Danielle, I'm Tate. Is your mom around?" The teenager nodded and in a flash she ran up to find Serena.

"Tell me you two are related. You have to be. She looks just like you did at that age." Dean said walking up behind Tate.

"She's my half sister and I have a strange feeling she doesn't know about me."

"Ya think! Did you see the look she gave you?" Fancy said, trying not to laugh.

"Keep it down Fance, here comes Serena." Sam said as Serena stepped down off the bottom step of the back stair case that most likely led up to bedrooms and rushed over to Tate with open arms. Danielle hung back, still in shock of seeing an older version of herself standing on her front porch.

"Tate! It's so good to see you! And you brought the whole gang! Oh, I love your new hair! Red looks so good on you!" Serena said, tugging at a few wayward strands that had fallen out of her ponytail.

"It's good to see you too mom. And the red, yeah it's permanent, but that's another story for another day. And yeah, I brought the whole 'gang' only because you asked me to ma….."

"Wait! Did she call you 'ma'? Mom, what the hell?"

"Oh yeah, she's your sister." Dean said, laughing along with Sam and Fancy, but stopped when Tate turned and gave him a cold stare.

"Sister? Mom?" Danielle looked just as shocked as her voice sounded.

"Guys, why don't you go make yourselves comfortable? I'll talk to Dani in the other room." Serena said, wrapping an arm around her younger daughter's shoulders.

"Do you have the guest rooms set up? If you do, Dean and I could unload the cars."

"I do Sam, upstairs back two empty rooms. Dani lets go in the kitchen." Serena and Dani went into the kitchen as planned, Sam and Dean out to the cars and Tate and Fancy into the living room.

Tate dropped down onto the same couch Dani had been sitting on and looked up at the wall mounted flat screen TV. The living room was nice; leather furniture, matching end and coffee tables, the TV, book shelves and other small personal items that made up a living room.

"Kinda looks like mine back at…whoa, who's that?"

"Who's who?" Fancy asked from the smaller couch where she had already made herself overly at home; her boots on the floor, thin hoodie draped over the back of the chair and her feet kicked up and crossed at the ankles.

"On the TV." Brown and lavender eyes both snapped up to the plasma screen and just starred for a minute.

"…wow."

"Black hair, leather jack, biker boots and handcuffs. When did this come on TV?"

"I have no idea, but….damn. When I get back home, I'm getting a better TV provider. I could care less if the bar went under, as long as I could look at that."

"I know! Who is he? And why don't we know who he is Fance?"

"You don't know who he is?" Tate looked up at her half sister and cocked an eye brow.

"No, who is that?"

"Criss Angel."

"Fance, remember that."

"Oh, so on it Kingy."

"So, you think he's hot?" Danielle asked as she dropped down next to Tate.

"Of course we do! Why wouldn't we?"

"Just asking, I have to get to know you some how."

"Good way to start, picking a hot guy. We have something in common." Tate said as she turned around and found Dean standing there with her duffle bag over his arm. "Hey."

"Don't hey me."

"What's the face for?"

"You're over there, girling it up over some magician and I get yelled at for starring at a waitress?"

"Yes, because you don't just stare, you stare, gawk, drool and ask for her number while I'm sitting there. This guy is on TV! TV! Not parading around in daisy dukes carrying a tray of chicken fried stakes and fries. Idiot." Tate turned back around and pretended not to see the look Dean gave her as Sam dragged him away and over to the stairs to finish moving bags in.

A few hours later, after a dinner of stakes grilled out on the back porch by Tate's step-dad Randy, Tate found herself leaning over the porch railing with a beer in her hand and looking out at the water. She had never been around the ocean for more than a few speeding by seconds so it was a big change for her. Hearing the door scrape open, she turned and watched Dani walk out.

"Hey."

"Hey. Mom and Dad said I should come out here and talk to you."

"Yeah, sorry I couldn't sit and chit chat before, Dean gets that way sometimes; when something needs to be he wants it done."

"So unpacking needed to be done?"

"Among other things, anyways, what's up?"

"Mom said you're a photographer."

"When I have time."

"Do you like it?"

"Love it, what do you do?"

"Nothing yet."

"Liar, I can see it in your eyes. So again, what do you do?"

"I paint."

"Much better."

"And I can play the drums."

"Really? I never could play an instrument; I'm more of a keep beat on the steering wheel person."

"Well with a car like yours, I'm sure you always have the music blasting with the top down."

"I only have the top down for a few months, not like here. I could get used to here."

"The beach is okay."

"Okay? Just okay? I spent my entire life in the backseat of cars and shitty hotels. I love it here."

"Mom also said you live in the "Garden Suite" at the Hilton."

"It was the "Garden Suite" now its just 'Tate's mess'. I've been there so long."

"Want to trade?"

"Not so sure yet." Tate said, taking another sip of her beer. "But why would you want to leave? It's great here."

"I want something more, adventure maybe."

"Believe me kid, you don't really want that. Normal is good."

"No its not, it's boring."

"Sweetheart, with my life and what I've seen, normal is great. I know right now it seems like you want nothing more than to run away from mom and Randy, but you'll regret losing them. I lost her and I hated not having her in my life. Me and my dad have a shitty relationship and I wish it was better; I'm closer to Sam and Dean's dad. But believe me when I tell you, normal is good. Go to school and get a good job, it'll all work out. Talk to Sam if you need to." Dani cocked her head and really starred at her sister; it was still odd thinking of her as a sister. "And really, the blue dye, loud music and Korn t-shirts, isn't gonna make them leave, you're stuck with them. So pray for good friends and make sure they have a comfortable couch; that's how me and Fancy became friends."

"What have you been through?"

"Come again?"

"I can see it in your eyes, how did you grow up?" Tate paused for a minute, she didn't need her sister finding out she was for a better lack of the term a Ghost Buster.

"Lets just say I sure as hell didn't grow up like you and you best be counting your lucky stars that you didn't." She said, taking a low pull from her beer. They didn't say much to each other for a few minutes and the heavy silence was making Tate nervous. "So, umh…how long are you guys here for?"

"Permanently. Mom transferred to a college in Orlando so we're staying. Dad is in construction and he's working with my uncle to start their own business."

"Very cool. Did she tell you anything about my dad?"

"No."

"So she didn't tell you anything about my other job?"

"Nope. Why? What are you? Reporter by day, stripper by night?" Tate laughed.

"I wish I was, but sadly I'm not. I can't tell ya kid, sorry. It's kinda 'confidential'. Sworn to secrecy with threats of Dean cutting my break lines."

"Okay, I'll ask again later. So what's with you and Dean? He your boyfriend?"

"Umh…I don't know. We never really called it anything. It just happened."

"When?"

"Oh God. We were fourteen, maybe? Yeah, fourteen sounds right. Wow that was a long time ago."

"And you two have been together ever since?"

"Oh God no! You're making us sound like some fairy tale couple. No, we haven't been together since then, the idea of us together has been there since then but we weren't always together. We just got back together and we've already come this close to killing each other."

"So you two really do love each other."

"Guess so."

"Ever thought of getting married?" Tate choked on her beer and coughed a few times as she fought to get her breath back. "Sorry."

"Way too many people have been talking about that in the past seventy two hours. Way too many."

"So no?"

"Listen Squirt, when you find someone like Dean…"

"Personality or appearance wise?"

"You pray for both and hope you get what you asked for. But when you find someone like him, you take what you can get with him. So if being 'boyfriend/girlfriend' forever is what you get, you stick with that and learn to like it. Do I see me and Dean getting married? Dunno, maybe. Who knows? Please, I barely know what tomorrow will bring." She said, looking out onto the water and sighed; thinking back to Sam's vision. "You have to live one day at a time and take what comes at you."

"So if he asked you tomorrow would you say yes?"

"Possibly."

"You would?"

"You sound depressed? What? You got the hots for your older sister's guy?"

"Have you actually ever just looked at him?!" Dani squawked

"Squirt, I've had almost fourteen years of just actually looking at him."

"And?"

"I'm still looking at him, every chance I get." She told her as a gust of wind picked up around the two of them. "I so did not do that." Tate muttered.

"It looks like its going to rain." Dani said thoughtfully, looking up at a rolling in thunder head.

"Where'd that come from?"

"Weather's been crazy here lately; the hurricane last week."

"It's been crazy up where I live too, it's the middle of February and it was ninety five up in Maine. Last week it was almost eighty by me in Boston."

"This is insane, we leave California after the last earth quake and then we get hit with a hurricane."

"Does anyone have any ideas of what's causing it?"

"One, but its stupid." Tate looked at the teenager that looked way too much like her and cocked an eye brow. She knew that tone of voice, the girl knew something and didn't want to tell Tate because she feared she'd sound crazy. Tate watched Dani for a second and smiled; she even fidgeted like her. Dani's painters fingers were curled around a short lock of her hair, her lower lip was wedged up under her top row of teeth and she was shifting her weight back and forth from foot to foot, her hips jutting out.

"Oh yeah, you and I are so related." Dani laughed and went back to picking at her nail polish. "Squirt, what do you know about the weather?"

"It's a stupid old story, a myth that I heard in school in my English class. Its really stupid."

"Just tell me! I'm interested."

"Have you ever heard of the Mermaid's Mariner?"


	6. Fish Tales

**Sorry this took a little longer to post than others, I've had a hell of a week and this took a long time to get the way I wanted it; especially the email you'll see when you guys scroll down. Anyways, I hope you guys like this, I finally had to just sit down the other night and bang out three pages because I needed to write. So have fun and I'll shut up. lol.

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****Chapter 6- Fish Tales**

The only light in Serena's living room was coming from the moonlight that poured in through the bay window and then the blue glow from Tate's laptop. Everyone else in the house was asleep; Serena and Randy, Dani and even Sam and Fancy had gone up to bed. Tate had been searching the internet for hours and came up with only a handful of sites. The small story Dani had told her hadn't given her many results; the Mermaid's Mariner was obviously not a popular search on Google.

"Tate?" She jumped at the sound of Dean's sleep roughened voice and looked toward the couch. In the dark she could barely make him out, but she could see the moon's reflection off the leather couch and saw his shadow; he was stretched out across the cushions now lying on his stomach looking at her with his arms folded on the throw pillow he had been sleeping on earlier. Tate had actually forgotten he was there; she had turned the TV off hours ago and the never bothered to turn any other lights on around her, so she figured he had gone to be when everyone else did. Knotting her eye brows, she gave him a cold look and sighed.

"What?"

"Why are you still up? It's almost…"

"Two thirty, I know what time it is."

"Come over here."

"Dean…"

"Stop pulling an all nighter and come over here by me."

"I'm busy; I've been working on this for hours." She said, typing something different into the Google search engine.

"Fine." He said, getting up and walked over to her. Tate sat curled up in the black leather arm chair that matched the couch and had her laptop resting on her jean covered thighs. With her finger just about to press down on the 'enter' key, she watched the laptop move away from her and be gently placed down on the coffee table in front of her. Then with a tug at her wrist, Tate was standing in front of the chair only to be pulled back down when Dean sat in her spot, sitting on his lap now instead of the soft leather.

"Just because I'm sitting in your lap does not mean that I'm done working."

"Yes it does."

"Oh really?" She asked, reaching for her computer. But Dean beat her to it; pulled the plug from the wall that was charging the overly dead battery and watched the screen go black. With her jaw set, she turned and looked at him.

"I'm busy."

"Too bad, it's almost three in the morning. Time for bed."

"But Dani…"

"Whatever Dani told you can wait; you're no good exhausted." He had her there, so with a sigh she curled up on his lap and put her head on his shoulder.

"I hate you, I hope you know that."

"I do, you hate me very much. Goodnight."

"Ass." She muttered and felt herself falling asleep.

Tate dreamt of warm shores, salt water filled breezes, stunning sapphire waves and ivory white sand; all and all, paradise. Just minus the looming black cloud on the horizon and the jagged cracks of lightning. She had no say in what the on coming storm was doing or planning on doing. She was helpless and felt the power of the storm trickle up her spine.

_Only you Child, only you_

Purple eyes snapped open and Tate's body shot up. Her neck and back were stiff and her head was already pounding. Looking over to Dean, she found him still sitting behind her and still sound asleep. Smiling, she kissed his cheek and slid off his lap; her legs shaking thanks to all the pins and needles that filled them. Sitting on the floor, she powered back up her computer and waited for the internet to come up. When it did, she breezed through her email and came across one that interested her. It was from a friend of hers named Jackson who published a 'supernatural' magazine called _From the Crypt and Beyond_. His father had been a hunter and keeping with tradition, Jack was one too; but the younger Fuller specialized in ghosts and pissed off spirits. He refused to get involved with vampires, werewolves, monsters or anything else that could be duplicated on a sound stage with a stunt man and the right amount of special effects make-up. He did however know a great deal about all kinds of ghosts and put all of that knowledge into his side project, his better paying job, the magazine.

Opening the email, Tate laughed when she saw the magazine's home page splash up on her screen; it was a haunted house whose different parts like the shutters and front door led to different links and pages, and scrolled down. Her eyes followed the magazine's 'mascot'; a take off on Casper named S.P. Irit. The ghost was a goofy little doodle Jackson had done and a friend of his, Eric who now helped run the magazine, refined into the smiling little toon who supposed haunted the old manor that popped up every time you logged on. But towards the bottom, past the cartoons, adds for upcoming issues and getting that new subscription, was an email from Jackson himself.

_--Long time no talk, TK. _

_Got your email and all the info you were given about this Mermaid's Mariner. Whoever told you about it knows their shit; everything you sent was verbatim to what I found. I attached a couple articles and some 'eyewitness' photos taken of a dark shape on the beach. _

_So here's what we know so far. This Mariner was a Spanish sailor who beat Columbus to the Americas, landing on what's now Larkin Island; renamed for the guy who bought it in the 30s, James Edward Larkin and his wife Molly. But when this mariner, Julio Pablo Rivera-Melendez landed there it was called La Isla de las Bonitas. Basically the Island of the Beautifuls. Whatever, anyways so our sailor brought a crew of men to this island and had them build a fort, a stone fort to watch for invaders out on the water. The fort was finished in the 1500s, the lighthouse that's there now was built in the 20s. It was built right on top of what was left of the fort. Back to the 1500s, apparently a lot of JP's workers died during construction and it's been said that their spirits haunt the island, but that's not what we're interested in. Sure it'll send EMF off the fucking map, but we're looking for something bigger._

_Now JP supposedly, after his fort was finished, heard a song; a mermaid's song. Story goes, he fell in love with a woman who had the lower half of a fish and the top of a gypsy; so green scales, tan, black hair and big brown eyes. JP fell hard for our Spanish Ariel. She protected him from bad weather and enemies. And in return he vowed to build her a safe haven, a grotto on the back side of his island right on the water and tried to find a way to change her fins to legs so they could be together for all time. Again back to the story, it said JP dabbled in some serious old school black magic and failed, no legs for this Ariel. But JP died before Ariel got her legs and never finished her private spot on the beach. One of his workers killed him before he got to add her three car garage for her sea horse drawn carriages. This worker was jealous of JP's mystery lady and wanted her for himself. But Ariel got wind of this and drowned the poor bastard. She found out JP was dead and that his murderer was still on the beach, so she took care of it. After that, it goes on to say that Ariel was caught by the rest of his men and killed, her tail hanging on the wall of her unfinished grotto. They sealed the entrance to the grotto, left her body in there to rot and buried JP in there with her. _

_If this is all true, it's JP's spirit seeking revenge for his own death and the mermaid's. His ghost is the one causing all the wild weather and crap. Kingy, you best take shit loads of pictures and a lot of good notes. I need a good story for the magazine. I heard you lost your job at the Boston Herald, if you need it, I always have a spot open._

_Email me back ASAP_

_--Jax_

Tate smiled and grabbed her cell phone from her laptop bag; looking for Jackson's number. When she called him she got his voice mail, it was still early and he didn't up till noon.

"Jax, its Tate. Got your email. Thanks babe. I need all of that. My sister didn't give me that much info. And when we go out to this island, which is about a ten minute boat ride from where I am right now, I'll take all the pictures you want and mail them to you fully developed, printed and have a hard copy on a disk. I can write an article if you need me to, you know I will. I gotta go Jax, I'm with the Winchesters if you need me. Bye." With her phone tossed back into her bag, Tate got up and walked up to the guest room her mother had given her and Dean to get changed and jumped in the shower before anyone else did.

Walking along the upstairs hall, Tate stopped outside her sister's door when she heard loud music coming from behind the door; familiar loud rock music. Knocking a few times and not getting an answer, she opened the door herself and saw Dani lying on her bed, listening to music and quickly sketching something out on a pad.

"Isn't it too early to be this creative?" Dani jumped, her pencil skidding across the paper.

"Crap Tate! You scared me."

"Maybe if you turn the music down, you'd hear me. So what's up? Why are you up so early and since when is Korn appropriate for eight in the morning? I usually start off slow, maybe some Stones or Zeppelin and then by lunch start working up to the really loud stuff."

"Korn gets me out of bed in the morning."

"Whatever you say Kid. Oh, you know that story you told me last night about the mermaid and sailor?"

"Yeah?"

"I emailed it to a friend of mine and he sent me some interesting stuff back. Tell me, how much do you know about Larkin Island?"

"Not much, why?"

"I need to know."

"My dad's friends with Eddie Larkin, he owns it now."

"So he's what? James Edward Larkin's son? Grandson?"

"Grandson, he has a daughter my age named Olivia, we go to school together and dad and Eddie sometimes go deep sea fishing together. Why do you need to know?"

"Because I just do. Do you think your father could take me, Dean, Sam and Fance over to see Eddie?"

"Maybe, why do you want to go over there?"

"I just need to. Thanks Dan." Tate said, walking back out and rushing back down to the living room, forgetting her shower for the moment. Skidding back into the living room, she went over to where Dean was; still sleeping, and shook him awake.

"Dean! Dean! Wake up!"

"Wha' do ya want?"

"Get up you ass! We need to get moving." She watched him rub the sleep from his eyes and stare up at her.

"What's going on?"

"Go get ready, we're going sailing."

"Sailing?"

"Yeah, hurry. Wake up Sam on your way upstairs. I need to make a few phone calls."

"…Okay. Whatever you say Tate." He told her, getting up out of the chair muttering curses at her the whole way. Tate walked into the kitchen, right up to the sink and pushed back the curtains. From where she stood, she looked right out onto Larkin Island.


	7. Boat Trip

**Sorry this took so long, I've been having a mini-meltdown in my life thats finally starting to let up and then I couldn't post anything on here since the document thing was down for the past few days. But anyways, here's the new chapter. There's no creepy in it, its just stupid-silly-stuff. But the creepy comes back, hopefully a smidge, in the next chapter or so. Anyways, I'm done, I hope you guys like this.

* * *

****Chapter 7- Boat Trip**

After much convincing, a change of clothes, a few phone calls, a screaming match between Tate and Fancy on the meaning of sleeping late on a Saturday, three cups of coffee into her step-father's system and literally pushing a still half asleep Dean out the door; Tate found herself standing on one side of her step-dad's boat looking down at the water below and smiled. She had never been on the water before, this was something new and as good as she was at hiding things, she could barely hide how excited she was to be out there. She practically glowed; Dean didn't know if it was from the pre-afternoon sun or the fact that she was overly happy, but either way he liked seeing her like this. Everything about Tate shined; from her eyes to her skin. Coming up behind her, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him.

"You're in a good mood."

"I am not, I'm always like this."

"Overly happy? I don't think so."

"Shut up. What do you want? I thought you were off somewhere pouting because I'm making you come out here."

"I don't pout."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Dean, stop. What do you want?"

"See what you're up to."

"Nothing, just looking." She said, pulling her camera over by its strap and spinning around in his arms. Looking at him through the view finder, she zoomed in as far as her lens allowed and laughed.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking at the freckles under your eyes."

"I do not have freckles."

"Do so Winchester, I can see them. I can even count the little bastards."

"Knock it off Tate."

"Like hell I will. Buh-bye." She said, slipping away from him and over to bug Fancy. A shriek told Dean that she had captured the bartender on film without her permission. Oh yeah, Tate was in a good mood. She flitted around the deck, snapping different pictures of Sam, Fancy and her step-dad Randy. Shaking his head, Dean turned away from her and looked over the water. This was new for him too, he was used to warm asphalt under rubber tires on top of shocks and car parts; not some fishing boat on top of waves that could turn them over at any second. He was not a creature of change; he liked what worked best and worked hard not to deviate from the plan. Pushing his sunglasses up onto his head, he looked up toward the sun and scrunched his eyes to keep out the light from the warm sun. As he brought his face back down, the sound of a snap and film rewinding itself caught his attention, followed by Tate's giggle.

"What did you do?"

"Took another for my collection."

"Another picture of me? How many is that now?"

"Lost count, I think this one'll come out good, it's all contrast and shit. The sun and then the shadows will look amazing. Just trust me, don't look at me like that. You're not the photographer; you have no idea what I'm talking about."

"You're nuts."

"I've been told." She said, sticking her tongue out at him and snapping another picture. Giving up, he slumped into one of the bucket seats Randy had on deck and let her finish off the roll; it was probably a brand new 36 exposure one too. She always knew what she was doing and how to drive Dean nuts. A few minutes and about ten pictures later, Dean put his hand out and grabbed the lens, fingers curling around it.

"Let go Dean! What have I told you about doing things like that!?"

"Stop taking pictures."

"Let my lens go Dean."

"I will if you stop. You're driving me crazy."

"Let go!"

"Knock it off!"

"I said let go!" She said, swatting at his hand.

"Tatum!"

"Dean!"

"We're getting nowhere with this, just cut it out okay and leave me alone for a few minutes."

"Pain in the ass." She grumbled as she got her camera back and went over to where Fancy was sitting.

"What's his problem?"

"He's Dean."

"Ahh yes. If everything was that simple, there'd be no starvation, wars, overly priced clothing and bands would play good live music."

"The good life." She said, kicking back with her friend. "Can you image? A house band that actually does a good cover song?"

"Kyle called, him and the band played the other night."

"How'd they do?"

"How do you think?"

"Kyle probably told you they 'rocked the house' which is code for they tried a Blue Oyster Cult song and crashed and burned by the chorus."

"That's what I said."

"How come I've never seen the house band before?" Sam asked, scaring Tate a little since she had no idea he was that close all of a sudden.

"Because my dear String bean, you are never around when my brother's band plays. You have to stick around a little longer."

"I'll try next time they play."

"Damn right you will." Tate heard Fancy say as she pushed the bucket seat back as far as it could go, put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes; chin tilted up toward the sun. She found herself drifting somewhere between listening to Sam and Fancy talk about music and somewhere empty and blank; just nothing. It was like one of her white canvases she had in her store closet back at her place; it was just white and empty, a little unnerving too. She felt herself drifting back to the thought of Sam's vision, that little chunk of information had been looming in the back of her mind since he told her; always popping up when she didn't want it to, like now. It was like a black cloud skimming over the calm of her dreams, just waiting to open up and wreak havoc on everything. Tate jumped when she felt something touch her leg. Opening her eyes, she looked up at Dean and kicked at him with her other foot, connecting with his shin.

"What do you want?"

"That hurt."

"I have on flip-flops and you're whining? Just wait, I'll wear my boots next time. What?"

"Boat docked."

"Fantastic. Leave me here."

"No, can't do that."

"And why can't you Dean? I get in trouble when we do these kinds of things; 'on-site investigations', you know that. I'll wind up saying something stupid or falling into some trap like I usually do. It's like an episode of Scooby-Doo. So I suggest that you let me sleep here and go talk to this nice man about his island, take lots of notes for me."

"Hey! It is like Scooby-Doo! Look over there!" Fancy called, cocking her head toward Sam and then reached out to tug on a strand of his hair. "Shaggy."

Ignoring Dean, Tate looked at Fancy and laughed.

"So if he's Shaggy, who are we Pixie?"

"Well isn't it obvious? I'd be Daphne." Tate bit back a laugh.

"My ass you'd be."

"And you'd be Velma and Dean can be Freddy. Of course, Freddy would have to have a thing for Velma to have this work to our advantage."

"No Scooby?"

"That's what your kid sister is for." Tate stood, pushed past Dean and rolled her eyes at Fancy.

"Daphne, dumb drunk." She said, tugging her camera bag over her shoulder as Fancy and Sam walked off the boat. Looking over to Dean, she cocked her head to the side and arched an eye brow.

"What?"

"What the hell just happened?"

"A Fancy and Tate Moment, aren't they fun?"

"I'm in shock."

"It'll wear off. Let's go Freddy, we've got a case to start." She said, pulling him by his elbow and following Sam and Fancy.


	8. Author's Note

--Author's Note--

Ok guys, it's happen. I've run out of ideas for this next chapter. I have officially gotten IT; Writer's Block. But its not all of my stories, just this one. It seems to be a very selective case of writers block, I just can't get through this new Dark Winds chapter. I've been getting ideas left and right for other stories and later chapters, I just can't get through Chapter 8. So bear with me for a little while longer. The first semester of college is ending next week for me and I'm off from Dec. 18th to Jan. 16th, so maybe I'll get an idea by then or after. Oh! If you guys get anything idea related feel free to email me, I'm looking for anything at this point to make into a story. Your help would be very greatly muchly appreciated. This isn't a notice saying I'm stopping Dark Winds, it's just an 'I can't figure this out at the moment, give me so more time' type thing. I'm really trying and it's really pissing me off that I can't get a good idea for this chapter. So umh…how about this, we'll call it a "Holiday Hiatus" like they are with the show. Its not going to be permanent or anything, maybe just another week or so. But really, if you get anything feel free to send me it. I'd love it. Thanks so much.

--BE.


	9. Island Beauties

**I'm BACK!!!! I finally got over the Writer's Block and have a new Tate Chapter! Oh my God, this is so amazing. You have no idea how excited I am about this. Once I got this idea, it just starting coming together again and then boom, I have about seven pages worth of chapter. So I'm going to make this quick, hope you guys like this and have fun, oh and please, leave lots of reviews, I think I'm starting to go through withdrawal from not getting them on _Winds _since I haven't updated since God knows when.  
****--B.E--

* * *

****Chapter 8-Island Beauties **

Tate and Fancy sat on the railing that lined the dock and watched everything that was going on around them: Tate's step dad had set up his fishing gear at the end of the dock; Serena hadn't been kidding when she said Randy loved to fish, Sam and Dean were playing good cop/bad cop with Eddie Larkin. The middle aged millionaire had met them when the boat docked and after he said hi to Randy, introduced himself to Tate and Fancy, Sam and Dean struck. Tate had rolled her eyes when Dean told Eddie that they were reporters from the Boston Herald and flashed the photocopied versions of her press pass at him.

"How long is this going to take?" Fance asked Tate loaded her camera with a new roll of film.

"If Sam's involved, he'll take another ten minutes or so. He'll get all the answers he needs. That and he does it to piss Dean off; a waste of good hunting time or some bullshit." Tate muttered as she closed the back of the camera shut and then adjusted the lens, holding it up to her eye.

"Why?"

"Why what? Piss Dean off? First off, its little brother mentality and second, you're looking at 'Shoot first, ask questions later' and 'Get all the facts and then maybe, if the situation calls for it, shoot.' Complete opposites, ever since we were kids." Tate's answer was again followed by more fiddling with her camera, this time tightening the strap.

"And you're what? Ask questions and then just shoot?"

"Shoot until they stop moving and the magazine is empty."

"Freak."

"Drunk."

"Love you."

"You too."

"Let's go explore, I can't sit still for much longer." Fancy said, jumping down off the railing and quickly Tate followed, swinging her camera over her shoulder. The two walked off the dock and onto the sand that sat before them. The sand that layered the beach felt weird under Tate's feet, she was used to packed dirt, asphalt and thick mud. But the beach did amaze her, she had never gotten a chance to play in the sand building towering sand castles or just stare out at the water. The only things she got to swim in was the tub when she was child or the crappy pools outside the Super 8.

"Think we could talk the boys into swimming?" Fancy's voice pulled her from her thoughts and Tate realized she had stopped, that she was standing on the shore starring out at the water.

"I don't think so, Dean isn't big on swimming. Sam might if you push his buttons enough."

"I've heard about yours and Dean's swimming 'adventures'."

"And you won't hear anymore of that story from me." Tate said, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear. Fancy watched Tate go back to staring at the water and smiled. It had been a while since Fance had seen her so still.

"You'd be good here."

"Come again?"

"You and the ocean Tae, it would do you a lot of good out here. Maybe you should move."

"Don't think so."

"I do. You love the ocean already and you need some sun."

"I'm a hunter, not a beach bum."

"You can be both."

"Not if I'm dead." Tate clamped her mouth shut, praying Fancy hadn't heard her. But it looked as if she didn't, seeing as the bartender was picking up a seashell to play with.

"I was wondering when you were going to say something about that. I've been trying to come up with ways to ask you about it ever since Sam told me about that fucking vision. Glad you opened your mouth; I was getting ready to scream it at you in front of Dean." Fancy said absently as she flicked the sand off the shell.

"You…you know! How! I told Sam not to tell you!"

"He told me the day it happened, right before we left, who do you think made him tell you? He wasn't going to tell you Kingy."

"Oh…" Tate said, that was all she could really come up with, as Fancy draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into her side.

"Here's what I think before you ask me. Sam saw something wrong, misinterpreted the damn vision, I mean it has to be like a dream; you know how they are and nothing is usually that straight forward. Maybe after this hunt, you and me will head back to Boston and in his mind he saw you 'dying' and it was really you, him and Dean splitting up again. Like you guys just started hunting together again and you guys are all good again and then if you leave again, it will 'die'. I dunno, but you're not going into any pine box babe." Fance said, kissing Tate's temple. Tate smiled and patted her on the shoulder.

"When'd you get so smart?"

"Lets say Sam's been rubbing off on me." She said, wagging her eyebrows as she giggled.

"Gross Fancy! He's like my little brother! Gross!" Tate laughed, pushing Fancy away. A sand-ball fight was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Both girls whipped around and starred at a guy who looked to be around their age; he wore khaki shorts, a white tank top and held his ear length brown hair back with a pair of sunglasses.

"Hi…" Fancy cooed only to have Tate grab her wrist.

"Down girl. Can we help you?" Tate asked the guy. The guy smiled, white teeth shown out at Tate and he winked at her; she was not impressed. Shifting her weight to her left foot and jutting her hip out, she looked at him and put on that patented 'Dean-smirk'.

"Hey, no need to get snippy."

"Snippy is the least of your worries. Again, can we help you?"

"Maybe I can help you babe."

"Doubt it, but continue."

"A ball-buster, I like that…." Tate rolled her eyes and turned to look at Fancy, who was biting back a laugh; she knew what was coming next if the guy kept taunting Tate. "…My uncle said you two came over with Randy and the reporter guys; he said to show you around the island."

"Uncle? And you would be who…?"

"Oh, Christopher Larkin. My dad's Eddie's older brother. I work at the docks during the summer."

"Tate King, Randy's step daughter and this is my friend Fancy Evans."

"Tate and Fancy, I like that. You island beauties up for a tour?" He asked, laying the charm on real thick. Tate looked over to Fancy, cocking an eye brow as if to say she could handle this one and she did just that. The bartender walked right up alongside Chris, laced her fingers within his and smiled shyly at him.

"We'd love a tour. C'mon Tae, bring your camera and take some pretty pictures." Tate rolled her eyes and followed the two. Chris gushed about his great grandfather's island, Fancy giggled when the comment seemed appropriate and Tate did as Fancy said, snapping pictures when she needed to. Chris was attempting to whisk the girls up some narrow stone path that led up to the back of his sprawling family estate when Tate spied something similar to what Jackson had mentioned in the email. It was an outcropping, a cove right on the water, with a large pile of boulders piled in front of what could have been an entrance. Cocking her head to the side, Tate slipped off her flip flops, rolled her jeans up to her knees and took off toward it.

"Miss King! What are you doing? Miss Evans, what is your friend up to?"

"She's being Tate, Chrissie." Fancy purred.

"Miss King!"

"What?!" She snapped, turning around to look at him.

"What are you doing over there exactly?"

"Checking something out, what's behind here?"

"I have no idea, its been like that since I was a kid." Tate bit her lips and looked up the side of the cave's entrance, good sized jagged rocks jutted out here and there; the perfect size for hand and feet holds. Placing her camera on the dry sand, Tate scaled her way up to the top of mound of boulders and with her fingers and toes tightly wrapped around some of the gray rocks, used her free hand to push away several small boulders. The rocks landed in the salt water with large splashes, but once they were moved away, the scent of decay hit Tate hard. Shaking her head, as if to clear the scent away, she leapt back down and, camera in hand, trotted back over to Fancy.

"What's up?"

"Ditch the yuppie, we need the guys."

"Again, what's up?"

"The story Jackson sent me, I have a good feeling that its all behind that stone wall."

"So what do we do?"

"Don't worry, I'll think of something. Just go get Sam and Dean."

"What about him?" Fancy asked, cocking her head back toward Chris.

"Drown him for all I care. Just make him disappear."

"I'll get rid of him; you go get Sam and Dean."

"And will meet back here at 0500 hours. Do we need the Mission: Impossible music?" Tate asked with a smile on her face as they split back up.

"Again, freak."

"Again, drunk." Smiling, Tate made her way back to the dock and found Sam and Dean right where she had left them. Walking down the salt water dampened planks; she slid up behind Dean and dropped her head on his shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Need you and Sam, please."

"May I ask why?"

"Need you two to move some shit."

"What kind of shit?"

"You'll see when we get there. Now, please?" Tate said, hugging Dean around the waist.

"The things I do for you." Sam rolled his eyes and looked back at Tate, telling Eddie he'd finish their conversation later.

"Where's Fance?"

"Entertaining the locals. Now can we go?" After another twenty minute walk around the island, retracing her steps for the second time, Tate came back to the shoreline where she had left Fancy and found the bartender waiting for her.

"Where's Chris?"

"Told him to start making lunch or something like that, we've got time."

"Good."

"What are you two up to?"

"De, sweetheart, you read Jackson's email right?"

"Yeah, and don't call me that again."

"Well, he said something about that sailor building the mermaid a cove and what does that over there look like to you?" Dean and Sam both looked to where Tate was pointing.

"A cove and didn't he say it was sealed?"

"Bingo."

"We're going to have to come back; we don't have what we need to clear all of that away."

"Didn't Jackson say they left the bodies in there?" Sam asked, looking up at the gap Tate had cleared away.

"Yeah, it smells like something's dead in there."

"All right, so we'll come back tomorrow with the stuff and clear all that shit out of our way. Doesn't sound too hard."

"Easier said than done Fance." Tate told her as she looked back at Dean. "Now what?"

"We go back to your mom's house, email Jackson again and go from there."

"Sounds good." As the four started to head back, Tate stopped for a second and quickly snapped a few shots of the cove with the small digital camera she had pulled from her jeans' pocket. Fancy stopped with her and watched the guys walk up ahead.

"I've been meaning to ask you something Kingy."

"What?"

"When are you going to tell Dean?"

"About the vision?"

"Yeah."

"Never, if I can avoid it."

"I don't think you can avoid it."

"Watch me."


	10. Stumbling Blocks

**Ok! I finally figured out where I want to go with some of this normal 'Tate-drama' crap. Its slowly working itself out. Like this chapter, yeah, this didn't exist until three this afternoon since I spent most of the morning trying to figure out exactly what the hell is going on. That and I'm trying to set things up for a next story. Yes, moan and groan, more Tate. Anyways, after this chapter and probably the next, the creepy will really start to kick in and there will, as always, be more Tate/Dean drama because...well thats fun to write. I'm rambling, so I'll stop and let you guys read this. I hope you all like it. Keep reading, putting up with my crazyness and reviewing. --B.E.

* * *

****Chapter 9-Stumbling Blocks**

_The waves lapped up at her with tremendous speed, each salt-water filled crest hitting her harder than the one before it and attempted in vain to knock her backwards into the surf so the vicious waters could take her back with them. But it failed, no matter how hard each wave tried; she kept them at bay with a powerful gust of wind. The barrier of air kept her safe and protected from each new onslaught of the older than time power the ocean held in its grasp. Out in the dark waters came a plume of water, like the spout from a whale, and on the very top sat the figure of a woman; beautiful in the darkness and shimmered in the moonlight cast down upon her. Her raven colored hair spilled down over bare tanned shoulders and depthless aqua colored eyes looked out onto the dark and growing more and more violent waters. Her water tinted eyes looked toward the shore and smiled. In a tongue older than the waves she was seated upon, the water went back to its tranquil and sometimes eerie stillness and flattened out like a black silk sheet pulled taunt over a mattress. _

"_You are quite powerful Little One. Strong enough to stave off my waves but not that strong. I can still worm my way into your mind. Poor child, so much sadness and despair. You and I are quite similar; a mermaid and the bastard child of an Angel and a Fate. I grant wishes and protect the one who loves me, you do the same. We both lost the men we loved or you will loose him soon and it will be by your own hand, just like mine was. We're not that different, remember that Little One." _

Tate opened her eyes slowly, looking up at a white ceiling with a paddle fan slowly churning a cool breeze above her and pressed the heel of her hands into her eyes; scrubbing the sleep away.

"That was…interesting." She muttered, thinking back to her dream for a quick second. Turning over, after nearly falling off the couch and catching herself, she realized she had fallen asleep in her mother's living room and took a deep breath. She must've passed out after coming back home from Larkin's Island. Getting up off the couch, Tate carefully padded into the kitchen as she raked a hand through her snarled hair and found her mom and Fancy sitting at the counter.

"Oh look! Sleeping Beauty, she wakes." Fancy said, bringing her bottle of water up to her lips.

"Choke. Why'd you let me sleep out there? I hate sleeping on couches."

"Picky, picky. We tried to wake you up but you just wouldn't and Dean didn't want to move you, so we left you. Grape?" Fancy asked, shoving a handful of the small green fruit at her. Plucking a few off the stems, Tate hopped up on the counter and looked at her mother.

"How are you?" Serena asked casually as she sipped some iced tea from her glass.

"Fine, why?"

"Just asking, Dean said something to me before." Tate rolled her eyes as she popped a grape into her mouth and began dreading waking up.

"What did he say?"

"Something about you two."

"Ya know, I may be a reporter by trade but I do not like digging for information, just tell me."

"He said something about you two drifting apart. I have no idea what he's talking about, I told him he's crazy and that you two are perfect for one another. But he had to have the last word, telling me there was something wrong, boy's a fighter. I remember him like that when he was small, brat." Serena said with a soft smile as she toyed with the grape stem; Tate could almost feel the far away sad look in her mother's eyes. Thinking of Sam and Dean when they were younger meant thinking about Mary and Garrett; Serena still hadn't made amends with either death and Tate knew that. "He said he felt something coming in between you two, like a wedge and you're getting distant again. What does he mean by again? Tatum? Have you walked out before? Tate, I hope your father and I taught you better than that. You can't run away. What is he talking about? He seemed upset." Tate looked up and shrugged.

"Dunno. He's nuts." Tate told her mother as she gracefully slipped down off the counter, pulled open the fridge and took out a cold Corona.

"Tate, those are Ran…" Before Serena could finish, Tate had the top of the beer popped and was heading out onto the deck. Pulling down more of the beer, Tate's eyes glanced at the horizon and she felt her dream starting to come back to her.

"_We both lost the men we loved…" _She felt it brush against her thoughts and for a minute, wished she had never come down here. Wished she had never run away when she was younger, maybe she and Dean wouldn't have the problems they did if she had stayed. Maybe she would've found her mother sooner and she'd be normal, somewhat, and her and her father would have a better relationship.

"Well, you've screwed something else up." She muttered as she took another pull from the bottle.

"Tate?" Hearing Fancy's voice, she turned and looked at her friend, flashing her weak grin.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you should tell Dean now? I mean, if he feels something going on, he might know."

"He doesn't know, believe me."

"Maybe he should."

"I don't even know where he is."

"Down at the dock with Randy and Sam, he wanted to see the boat's engine." Tate smiled the smile that only Dean normally saw and rolled her eyes.

"Typical male. But what do I say? 'Oh yeah Dean you're right there is something coming between us, it's just the small fact that I'm going to die by the end of this hunt. My mom's ordering pizza by the way.' Umh…yeah, no. Sorry. That won't work."

"Just talk to him." Fancy grasped Tate by the elbow and led her over to the porch steps that went all the way down to the sand below. "Go!" Tate tugged her arm away and slowly walked down to the shore where Randy had moored the boat. He had built himself a small dock right off the shoreline and tied his boat to one of the posts down there. Leaning against the railing, Tate crossed her arms over her chest and watched the three men on the boat. Randy was talking about something that was holding both of their attentions, pointing and getting very excited as he showed them both something on the steering wheel.

"I can't be here much longer; I don't want to die with them around. I can't do it. They're too happy, it'll ruin everything.I have to run." She muttered, watching as Sam mirrored something Randy had shown him a few seconds before and Tate jumped when the boat's engine roared to life. Over the loud noise she could hear Sam laugh as Dean practically cooed at the noise like a baby did when you shook a rattle at it. Smiling again, she had been doing that way too much for someone who was bound to die, Tate walked over to the off board ladder that led up to the boat and slowly scaled it. Standing on the top rung, she looked over the deck and whistled, getting Dean's head to whip around.

"Hey baby." Dean said with a smile as he wiped something off his hands and onto a rag Randy had on the boat.

"Hey Captain, Randy can I steal him away from you for a second?" She asked, looking at her step father. Randy was just as amazed of their relationship just like everyone else was when they learned about it. He had been told all about what they did and Tate's 'second job'. It still amazed him to know that even after the way both of them, all three of them really, had grown up, the relationships they had with each other were the most normal thing about them.

"Yeah, I think Sam and I can manage without him for a little while. Not too long huh Tate? No woman stuff."

"I'll try. C'mon, I gotta talk to you." Sam looked over to her and his eyes said it all; he knew what she was up to. Nodding at him, at her 'little brother', she slid back down to the dock and once Dean was there, threw herself into his arms. No matter how much she denied it or where she dropped her bags, Dean was home. He was warm, kept her safe and even smelt like what she imaged home to be; gun powder, his leather jacket, vinyl from the Impala, soap, deodorant, mint just like the annoying gum he'd snap when they were in the car and her and Sam had vetoed the rest of his tape collection, there was something that could've been cologne and there was always something she could never figure out, something that every time she caught a whiff of it she thought Dean right away. Whatever it was, it was warm, spicy, leathery and just so damn unidentifiable she had a long time ago given up naming it and just called it Dean.

Feeling a hand thread through her hair, Tate looked up from where she had buried her face in his chest and saw Dean looking down at her. He had that weird look on his face; a cross between concerned and freaked out, it was the one she usually got when she did something 'girlfriend-ish'. Laughing, she pushed him backwards and walked off the dock.

"Where are you going? I thought you wanted to talk to me?"

"In private, dumb ass."

"Oh. In private, like our bedroom private?" He asked, catching up to her and looping an arm around her waist. Looking up at him again, she laughed when he cocked an eye brow at her. "Am I right? That kind of private?"

"Sorta, the kind of private where they can't hear us, but not that kind of private where we'll scream if Sam walks in."

"So, we're really just talking."

"Afraid so."

"Damn."

"I knew you'd say that." Tate smiled when he stopped and pulled her close enough so he could drop his chin onto her head. He was always so damn close to her, always in her space and part of her couldn't get enough of it. She'd miss this.

"So what are we talking about?"

"What you talked to my mom about." Dean bit one side of his lip and looked down at the sand below them, as if the tiny grains were that interesting.

"…Oh, that."

"Yeah that. What's coming between us? What do you feel? I don't need Sammy the Psychic to tell me there's something wrong with you." Tate's long fingers uncurled as she pressed her palm flat against Dean's chest.

"Nothing's wrong…I dunno."

"Dunno what? You gotta give me more than that Dean. We're almost twenty nine years old, we should be able to handle these problems, and I really don't want to pack up my shit and run again. I can't afford to do that. I don't want to do that again." _'But if me and Sam can't fix this in time and I do die, who's gonna fix me and Dean? I've run so many times, where will he run if I go?'_ She thought as she tugged at his necklace. Somewhere in her mind, she figured if she held onto that necklace long enough, like a lifeline, she'd be safe and maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to tell him about the vision.

"No, you can't run and I know, we need to fix all of this. It was bound to happen anyways, this fucking conversation. I don't know, it feels like there's something in between us, something…dunno, maybe you know it, and you're not telling me." There it was, her opening, she had him right where she wanted him; she could just tell him. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him and just as she went to open her mouth, Dani appeared on the porch behind them.

"TATE!" Dani's voice carried across the sand and crashed into Tate's ears like a freight train, even Dean jumped.

"Yeah?!"

"Your cell phone."

"Did you pick it up?"

"Yeah, some guy named Jackson." Tate held up a finger and watched Dani bring her cell phone back up to her ear; telling Jackson she'd be right there.

"I swear….Dean, can we finish this later?"

"After we see what Jackson wants. Maybe he knows more."

"Lets pray he does." She muttered as she took off toward the porch. When she walked into the house, she saw Fancy and gave her a sad smile; it said it all, she hadn't told Dean and was no where closer to telling him.

Somewhere off in the distance, a few miles away from Larkin's Island, lightning streaked over head, thunder rolled, the waves picked up and something amongst the clouds cackled. In the living room, Tate's head snapped back toward the slider and swore she heard the laughing as she looked at the slow moving dark thunder heads.


	11. Future Plans

**Okay, don't start yelling. I know, bad B.E for not updating for almost a month. I know, I know. I've felt bad about not updating either. So anyways, I've had this chapter written for awhile and after about a week of tweaking it, I got it the way I want it so it fits right with the rest of the story. I hope you guys like this, thanks for putting up with the wait too. --B.E**

**Chapter 10- Future Plans**

Tate and Fancy sat on Serena's back porch, stretched out on lounge chairs and held a Corona in hand. The two watched the sun come down lower on the water, the sky above changing into that tie-die sunset color; red melting to pink, orange, yellow and then that ever growing darker cobalt blue. Tate's mind had floated away; her thoughts back on the laugh she swore she heard earlier and bit her bottom lip. Everything was too much; this hunt, her mother and half sister, Sam's vision, Jackson taking an hour and a half on the phone before, Fancy nagging her to tell Dean and of course, Dean in general. Maybe she should just sit him down and tell him; quick and painless like pulling off a band-aid.

"Hey Kingy." Fancy called, her fingers wrapping around the neck of her beer bottle; yanking Tate back to earth with a sharp tug.

"Yeah Fance?"

"I've been thinking; spending the past two days around your mom and step dad, what do you think you'd be like if you were 'normal'? It's been bugging me."

"Define normal; no hunting and my job at the paper back or no hunting, good job, normal childhood and the white picket fence?"

"Second one."

"What do I think? I think I'd be bored; nine to five at the paper, dinner to be made, shopping on the weekends for food and family dinners on Sunday. I'd rather blow my brains out and paint a picture with the mess doing that made." Fancy laughed as Tate pulled down another swig of beer.

"Paint a picture Kingy? That's a little…morbid."

"Look who you're talking to. But I'd paint a goddamn picture and then call it 'Ode to Suburbia; a Deadly Shade of Crimson'. And then you know what I'd do with it?"

"Sell it to your overly Christian neighbor?"

"No, that would be my next piece entitled "Satan" done in red food coloring dyed faux rabbit skin. I'd hang it over my picture perfect Christmas card and stocking decorated mantel above the fire place."

"You my friend have issues."

"Blame it on my upbringing." She told Fancy, her eyes falling back to look at the red horizon.

"But seriously, you never thought about what you'd be like if you weren't involved…." Fancy spun her wrist around for a minute, searching for the right word. "…this?"

"Once or twice, but if I was 'normal' I never would've ran away and met you. Hell I might have never met Sam and Dean."

"Maybe, maybe not. We would've met and you and Dean are destined to be together." Tate made a noise, dragging it up from the back of her throat that sounded like she was going to bring back up everything in her system.

"Oh please! Do not start with that fated destined star crossed lovers bullshit. We barely get along. And umh...oh yeah, I might not make it to next week."

"Liar. You're perfect for each other. You've never thought what it would be like? And that dying shit has to stop, you're not dying."

"What would be like exactly?" Tate asked, ignoring the dying comment.

"Leaving the newspaper at three to pick up Dean Jr. from school, bring him home and open the door, get jumped by Rover. Check your messages as he sits down to tell you about school. And then helping him with his spelling homework while making Dean's favorite for dinner." Tate went whiter than the chair she was sitting on.

"Are you drunk?!" Tate almost shrieked, her eyes going wide.

"No. What's wrong? You didn't like that?" Fancy asked with a smirk.

"I think I'm going to be sick. Everything's spinning. That was…disgusting." Tate said, taking slow shallow breathes in through her nose and letting them out her mouth.

"Why? What was wrong with it?"

"First off, no. Just no. Secondly, that was too sugary sweet, it would never happen. Fance, if I do die, I don't want to go down thinking about my perfect 'What-If' life."

"It might happen. Again please stop with the dying shit!"

"Hell would freeze over, I'd be made a Saint at my upcoming funeral and you would be the first woman president." She said crossing her legs at the ankles and putting her empty beer down on a floor board below her.

"What do you think Dean would do? A 'normal' job." Fancy asked, changing the subject to avoid getting screamed at or ripped a new one. Tate sighed, let her head fall back against the head rest and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. Sighing, she thought 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.' and gave into Fancy's crazy notions.

"I don't know Fance. All I know is that I'd still be at the paper, maybe promoted to editor by now; Sam would've stayed at school, become a lawyer and married Jess. I don't know about Dean, we've never talked about this. Why are you and I talking about this?" Tate asked, pinching harder; maybe this was all a bad dream and she'd wake up. She could hear Fancy ticking off jobs, correcting herself and then starting up again.

"A mechanic! I've seen him work on the Impala."

"The Impala is his baby, the only car he works on."

"He's fixed the Mustang."

"Only because he knows if I try to fix it, I'll blow it and myself up. So he has to fix it or I'll die."

"Pfft. He could do it Tate."

"Fance, Dean isn't a people person and he sure as hell isn't an 'other peoples' car' person. Believe me, he'd take one look at someone else's car, stare at it and then tell them to get it out of his sight. He wouldn't do it."

"How do you know? Like you said, you've never talked to him about this."

"I don't need to talk to him about this! I know Dean and that's enough." She said, moving her hand from her nose and draping it across her eyes.

"Okay, fine. Have it your way. But you've never thought about getting married to him and having kids?"

"I turned down getting married once, what makes him different?"

"He isn't Jake. And you and Jake weren't meant to be."

"Stop with this meant to be bullshit. If we're so meant to be why do we fight?"

"Because you love each other." Tate almost screamed but instead nearly bit a hole through her bottom lip.

"I'm beginning to think letting you meet Sam was a bad idea, you're not the same Fancy."

"I'm the same."

"Then where'd all this girly crap come from? You were never been this way before."

"Yeah well, I've never had to hunt werewolves, a succubus or some crazy weather fucking up, pissed off spirit of a mermaid before either!" She yelled up at Tate as she stood and looked down at the bartender.

"Fancy, this isn't a big deal. Just because you're doing this now doesn't mean you're not normal or going to have a chance at normal. You can walk away, I can't. I'm not supposed to leave, this is my life; I've accepted it. Believe me, I've had this conversation with my dad, I'm stuck here and I know it. You'll find someone and you can get out of this, it isn't your life. Its mine." She said, turning toward the door.

"Is that why you're with Dean? Because you know he has the same life and it's easier that way? Easier instead of aiming for normal?" Tate let Fancy's words sink in and then without answering, did what she did best next to hunting and taking pictures; ran away. She walked into the house, kicking things as she went and made her way into the living room; dropping down on the couch and grabbing the remote. A second later she was watching Jeanie nod her head and poof something in for Major Nelson.

Tate lay in her bed, the one in the guest bedroom her mom had made up for her and Dean, with half of the blanket kicked down at her feet and listened to the recently started rain hit the windows. It was one of the last struggling storms that skirted up the Florida coast from Hurricane X and the air in the bedroom had that lovely humid sticky feeling clinging to it. Serena had turned the AC on earlier when all of the power had finally been restored back to their house and the neighborhood. Randy turned the generator off when the upstairs bathroom lights flicked on. Tate was too tired to help cool the room down herself and gently slid away from the furnace that was Dean's body. Before getting into bed, he had shrugged off his shirt, folded up his sweats and slid under the covers in nothing but his boxers and ever present necklace. One arm was curled under his head and the other was draped across his stomach, his hand flattened out right above his bellybutton. His hair was damp with sweat with a matching sheen on his skin and the sheets that he was laying under and on top of clung to his body.

Tate started up at the ceiling, her mind going a million miles an hour; maybe Fancy was right, maybe Sam was right for taking off and even she was right for leaving. Maybe normal was all right. If normal was watching the guy you loved, even if you denied it to everyone you knew, and listening to the rain fall, Tate could manage normal. With a long sigh, she kicked the covers the rest of the way off and slipped away from the bed; tugging tank top away from her damp skin and pulling her shorts away from her legs, she hated the humidity. Out in the hall it was a little cooler, but not much and when she got to the kitchen, her feet resting on the cool tiles, she breathed a sigh of relief. The light over her mother's stove was on and a new pot of tea sat on the counter cooling down. Grabbing a mug, Tate poured herself some and walked over to the sliding door, looking out at the rain that wracked the beach. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass and sighed; thinking about what Fancy had said again. If she wanted normal she'd have to live to the end of this hunt, if she wanted to live to the end she'd have to tell Dean and if she told Dean, she'd be put on a short lease and never allowed out of his sight.

"Tate King, queen of the Catch 22s; damned if I do tell him and very, very damned if I don't." She muttered as she watched the rain some more.

"I still say you should tell him." Tate jumped a foot and a half at the sound of Fancy's voice and looked back to scowl at the bartender in the dark.

"Tell him? And then what? Get tied up and locked away in the trunk of the Impala under the cross bow and hunting knives? I think not."

"He needs to know."

"Why are you so hard pressed for me to tell him? I mean, seriously, you're not the one who has an expiration date. I do. It's my business who I do and don't tell." She swore Fancy growled.

"What if Sam saw him dying and he didn't tell you? How would you feel?" Tate raked hand through her hair and sighed. She dropped down onto one of her mother's kitchen chairs and was tempted to bang her head against the table top.

"You don't get it; me and Dean aren't normal people. We don't tell each other everything, hell we barely tell each other anything. We keep things to ourselves; we don't have a sharing story time. He doesn't even know what happened with me when I left for Boston still and its been almost eight years! Fancy, we don't talk. We don't do normal 'couple' things, half the time we're not even a couple. When we were teenagers it was different, but then Garrett dying changed everything. It really did, I shut down and pushed everyone away and Dean let me. I didn't talk to anyone for a month after he died and when I started talking again, I only talked to my dad. And then I moved away. Fance, we have a lot of problems we never dealt with and this, Sam's vision, will only add to the mess. So maybe it's better if he doesn't know. If I die without telling him about it, all of those problems we have, I'll take with me and he can move on, ya know? Out with the old in with the new, kinda deal." Fancy was now past growling; she was foaming at the mouth and ready to strike.

"Tatum, I have never in all the years I've known you, said a bad thing about you. I've stood up for you, defended you and even kneed some random guy in the nuts for you when he was all over you. But I am going to kill you! You have no idea what you have, do you? Open your eyes! Dean loves you so much, you freak. He'd do anything for you and you know that. Out with the old in with the new, is probably the worst thing I've ever heard you say about him. He'd never be able to do that to you and you know it. He'd be a mess and there would be nothing me or Sam could do for him. You are his life you stubborn pain in the ass. And let me tell you something Miss King, if you don't tell him, I will." Tate looked up at her in the dark and felt the urge to scream. "Just think about it Tate, I'm going back to bed." Dropping her head onto the table, her forehead landed with a clunk and she let out a whimper.

"I'm not going to tell him." She muttered as she let out a sigh.


	12. Crumbling Lies

**Hey guys!! Yes, this chapter took a little longer than I thought. I had something slightly different and then I decided that I didn't like it, so guess what? I rewrote it. And I get to post it today because I'm home sick. Yay for being home sick!! haha. Anyways, in Tate & Dean related news, I have a feeling Dean might be a little 'out-of-character' in this chapter, but lets face it, if you found out the person you loved was dying you'd be acting a little odd too. I dunno, when I wrote this he seemed very 'boyfriend-ish' and not all badass Dean to me. He might not come off like that at all to you guys or he might, just saying. It might just be the way I read it. Whatever. Dude, I do talk a lot. haha. So, I'll shut up and let you guys read this. And I promise, the creepy is coming, just bear with me. --B.E**

**One more thing!! I might've, hint-hint, dropped a small spoiler for _Route 666 _for Kings and Queen. Maybe, hehe. If I did, it's really quick and you just might miss it. hehe. **

* * *

**Chapter 11- Crumbling Lies**

Tate woke up the next morning, well afternoon, back in the guest room and was face down on her pillow; the soft folds of the white pillow case hiding her at least a small amount from the outside world and the early afternoon sunlight. Groaning, she rolled onto her back and popped muscles she slept on wrong, hissing when she undid a knot in her lower back. She looked to her left and found an empty bed; she knew Dean wouldn't stay in bed no matter how long she slept; he wasn't that kind of person. He liked to move around and keep going where Tate was...well a bum. Stretching out further, like a cat would do, and toes pointed toward the end of the bed, Tate heard her back pop and sagged back into the mattress much more comfortable than a few seconds before. She got out of bed a few minutes later, annoyed with the feeling of sheets against skin and after brushing out her hair and slipping on her glasses, took off down the hall with a notion of digging through the kitchen for something to eat. At the top of the stairwell, she heard Fancy's voice coming from the kitchen and slipped into 'hunter' mode; quietly creeping down each step so she could eavesdrop without getting caught. She came to the bottom step and sat down quietly, straining her hearing to listen in.

"Dean, you can't say I told you."

"So you're saying I can't be mad at her for keeping this from me for so long? Why the hell not?!"

"No! I'm not saying that, you have all the reason in the world to be mad, but I don't want her to be mad at me. She's my best friend; Sam made me promise not to tell! She wasn't supposed to know I knew!" Tate felt a wave of anger ripple through her; Fancy had told Dean about Sam's vision. She heard the chair Dean must have been sitting in scrap on the floor and watched his shadow as he paced around the kitchen.

"And you both knew the entire time?" Sam was there too, apparently. This was all a set-up; it had Francesca Evans written all over it. "Sam, why did you lie to me before we left? I could've known this whole time."

"You wanted me to tell you so I could have you react the way you did a few minutes ago? Putting your fist though Serena's wall? No, I was going to wait and see what Tate did before I told you." She heard Dean let out a huff of air, he was pissed off.

"Fine. Whatever Sam. But what do I do now? Do I tell her I know?"

"You're going to have to, I only told you because I know Tate would've never opened her trap. Dean, if this goes through, she was going to take it with her. You were never going to find out." Tate wasn't sure what to do; walk in there and explain to the three of them or just wait until Dean found her. This wasn't how she wanted things.

"I have to talk to her, I need to. I'll go see if she's up." The second she heard the echo of his boots coming closer to her, she jumped to life and ran up the steps; she had a feeling Dean might've caught a glimpse of her red hair, but she didn't care. She flew down the second floor hallway of the beach house and once back in their bedroom, Tate locked herself in the adjoining bathroom. Her body sagged back against the wooden door and as she pushed her glasses up onto her head, let out a ragged breath. She had been trying to avoid this moment for almost two weeks and had done good so far, but thanks to her 'wonderful' best friend, here she was, hiding in the bathroom, praying to whatever it was that she believed in that Dean wouldn't come into the room asking questions. Hearing the door creak open out in the bedroom, Tate spit out a curse and listened to Dean walk in.

"Tate?"

"In here! I'm putting my contacts in, gimmie a second!" She called back, trying to keep her voice even and slowly peeled herself off the door, taking two shaky steps over to the counter. Contacts were gently placed in her eyes and with an unsure glance; Tate looked in the mirror in front of her. Her long hair was still a bit of a mess from sleep, her eyes were starting to take on the shocked, frightened look she used to see in them when she was younger and she had gone pale, her body shaking with each breath she took; she looked like she was going to die right then and there.

"Tate? You okay?"

"Yeah, I dropped the cap to my saline solution, I was looking for it." She said, as she gently turned the knob and squeaked a little when she found Dean standing right in the doorway. "Wanna not scare me?"

"Sorry. Can I talk to you?"

"About?" She asked casually as she stepped past him and went over to the closet where she had thrown her suit case. As she bent down to unzip the bigger of the two bags, to find a pair of denim cut-offs, Tate felt the familiar pressure of a hand wrapped around her wrist and looked over her shoulder to see Dean starring down at her. "What?"

"Can we talk, just for a minute?"

"I thought that's what we're doing; I was waiting for you to say something."

"Tate…" She knew that tone. Leaving the suit case alone, she stood back up and retraced her steps, dropping down onto the mattress and watched Dean sit next to her. She didn't know what actually provoked him, but Tate watched in a still silence as Dean reached out and grabbed her hand, wrapping his hand around hers. Tate smiled, remembering when she first looked at their hands; her finger tips ended just below his and had enough space to over lap her nails, she always had small hands. On the rare occasion that Tate/Dean-hand-holding did take place; Tate would always laugh as her whole hand seemed to disappear within Dean's

"What's wrong Dean?"

"When were you planning on telling me?"

"Telling you what? You gotta give me more than that."

"You were always bad at playing dumb with me." And he knew she was right; she had to give him that. She could lie to her father, Sam, John, Fancy when they both were sober and anyone when the hunt called for it, but all it took was one cold, downcast look from Dean and she spill everything.

"Yeah, guess so. I've been bad at a lot of things lately."

"But you've been good at keeping Sam's vision from me."

"I dropped hints."

"So it's my fault that I didn't put two and two together?"

"You can look at it that way." She said shortly, not sure why all of a sudden she really sounded cut off and cold.

"I'm not going to."

"Figured." They didn't say anything for a few minutes, Tate chewed on her bottom lip and looked everywhere other than Dean. She really didn't know what to say to him, she hadn't gotten this far in her mind; she was actually planning on taking off before Dean found out.

"I bet Fancy told you that I wasn't going to tell you." Tate finally said, breaking the silence.

"Why? Why weren't you?"

"Dunno. I didn't want you to get involved."

"I'm supposed to be involved."

"Dean, in Sam's dream, nightmare, vision…whatever the hell we're calling it, he never told me how I die; so I could be mauled to death by some fucked up monster or pass-away in my sleep. I wasn't going to tell you because this seems like something you have no control over."

"Control or not, you should've told me."

"Probably."

"Probably?! Tate, you should've! I shouldn't have been dragged out of bed by Sam and Fancy and had the two of them sit and tell me that you're going to die! To find out Sam lied to me from the very start and that Fancy had been covering for the both of you."

"Covering?! She was only doing what I asked her to, to give me time and space so I could tell you when I wanted to."

"And when would that be? When you're lying on the ground in a pool of your own blood?"

"Possibly." Tate said with a shrug as she stood up again, her long hair tumbling down her back. "Are we done here? You know about the vision and my 'death-sentence', so I think we're done." She told him sharply as she started to head back to the closet, but was yanked back by the hips and Dean tugged her into his arms.

"What now Dean?"

"Are you seriously just going to shrug this off?"

"What more am I supposed to do? Grieve for my mortal soul? Look, I've accepted it. And just because I'm a Wycker doesn't mean I can change a damn thing; I already tried. I called Nero, Alana and Griffin, nope. Once you're damned, you're damned. So just accept it Dean."

"I'm not going to."

"I figured you wouldn't. I really think you should though, accept it and move on."

"Move on? Are you kidding?"

"No."

"You honestly except me to 'move-on', are you nuts?"

"Yes I do, you can always go back to what's-her-face, Katie, Katy, Cookie…What was it? Ya know, the one I slapped the last time I saw her."

"Cassie?"

"Yeah her, I'm sure she'll take you back after you tell her the 'purple-eyed bitch' is dead." Dean had never really thought of hitting Tate ever in all the time they had known each other, really hitting her, but right now, he was fighting back the urge to. How did she expect him to just 'move-on' as if they had broken up.

"I don't want Cassie! Or any other girl that comes along, you're it King. Or don't you get that? It's only been you for a long time, since we were kids. Anything that happened in between then and now were just replacements until I got you back! I am not going to let anything happen to you, do you get that? I love you. But what I don't get is why didn't you tell me? Don't you love me? Don't you trust me?" Dean didn't know if the window had been left open or if it was Tate, but out of no where he felt a breeze pick up behind him. Looking down at Tate, he watched as tears clouded her purple eyes and knew what was coming next.

"I do love you! I do trust you! Why do you think I didn't tell you? I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to look at me like you are now! Like I'm going to die to if you look away for a second. I'm not, but I know something is going to happen and I can't put my finger on it yet. I know something is going to happen, I can feel it and I know I'm not walking out of Miami." She ended in a shudder as tears finally fell from her eyes. She sagged against Dean, breaking down for the first time since Sam told her and just cried. Dean wasn't sure what to do now, all he knew was that he had to protect her.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Fancy sighed as she pulled open the refrigerator door and took out a bottle of Corona. She felt horrible on the inside for doing what she did, for telling Dean and betraying Tate's trust. But part of her knew she had to do it. Feeling a familiar hand on her hip, her brown eyes met Sam's and sighed.

"Fance, you did the right thing."

"I know I did. Christ, I can hear her crying."

"Dean's with her don't worry." Sam said, giving her a slight hug. Fancy held on tight and buried her face in the cotton of his t-shirt. "What's wrong Fance?"

"I don't want to lose her. She's my best friend and if anything happens to her, I'll blame myself. Please, just tell me you two can save her, promise me, even if you can't. Just promise me that you'll do whatever it takes to keep her with me."

"I promise Fance, I promise." He gently rocked her in his arms and jumped when he heard the front door open; Serena, Dani and Randy were back. The small family had gone out for breakfast and to run errands hours before Tate was even awake. Serena walked into the kitchen, dropping shopping bags on the counter and looked back at Randy.

"I can not believe it."

"Believe what?" Sam asked, looking at Serena.

"Eddie Larkin, you met him the other day over at the island, his wife Abigail was found dead in their home this morning."

"What happened to her?" Fancy asked, clearing her throat.

"No one knows, but the cops say it was pretty gruesome." Randy told them as Dani walked up to her room and started helping his wife put the groceries away. Sam looked back at Fancy and sighed, pushing back his hair.

"We need to tell Dean and Tate."

"Give them time Sammy, just give them time."


	13. Breathe

**This chapter took longer than I planned, but it worked out a lot better than the first draft I had, so sorry it took so long. Anyways, I'm home from college for about a week, so I promise, if I get "struck" with the right idea, that there will be another update soon. I hope you guys like this chapter, keep reading and reviewing. --B.E.

* * *

****Chapter 12-Breathe **

"Are you sure you're not mad?" Tate ground her teeth and tried not to snap. It had to have been the twentieth time Fancy had asked her that in five minutes. She was going to scream. She wasn't mad, she wasn't pissed, furious or anything; she just felt emotionally drained. That was all…oh and she had a bitch of a headache from crying so much, but other than that she was fine. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of her, so maybe Fancy telling Dean wasn't as bad as Tate had originally thought. Turning around to face her best friend, Tate raked a hand through her long hair and put on her best grin.

"If you don't stop asking, I will be mad." She ground out.

"But Tate…"

"Fancy, I'm fine. Shut up."

"Tate! You said…."

"…that I'm not mad. But if you keep talking so damn loud, we'll get caught. Remember, we're not supposed to be here." Tate hissed as she ducked under the line of police tape. The girls, Dean and Sam had gotten over to Larkin's island after talking their way onto a small ship that was used to bring items from the main land over; food, equipment to fix small machines on the island like a dishwasher or lawn mower and other things like that. While Sam and Dean were down on dock chatting up police and Eddie Larkin himself, Tate and Fancy had made their way into the crime scene, trying to get enough of a glimpse at where Abigail Larkin's body had been found before they were found.

"I know we're not supposed to be here, but we can't talk?"

"Not really. So shut up and get to work. Here!" Tate tossed the bartender a small digital camera and told her to start taking as many pictures as she could. Twenty minutes later, she felt her cell phone vibrate against her hip once and then stop; it was Sam. The guys had apparently finished up and the cops were coming back. "Shit! Fance lets go!"

"Cops?"

"Sam just called, guess so! C'mon." Ducking back out under the tape, the two slunk down the hallway and got to the stairs when they heard someone walking toward them.

"Aww piss!" Tate cursed as the footsteps got closer. A second later, from around the corner popped a girl no older than seventeen. Her eyes were still rimmed with red, but other than that, she didn't look too upset. Her dirty blonde hair was swept up into a messy bun and the denim shorts she was wearing had seen better days.

"What are you doing in my house?" The girl snapped, eyes jumping from Tate to Fancy and then back to Tate. There was something about the purple eyed woman that she didn't like.

"We're press, I'm a reporter and this is my photographer. If you'd like, I can show you my press pass." The girl nodded weakly and Tate quickly pulled her ID out of her bag. She flashed it in front of the girl quickly and then stuffed it back into the pocket she took it out of. "You're Olivia Larkin aren't you?"

"How do you know?"

"You're friends with Danielle Summers."

"Yeah, wait…how do you know that too?"

"I'm Dani's older sister. Now, would it be alright if I asked you a few questions?"

"I already talked to the police and someone from the newspaper."

"We know you did sweetheart, but we're from a different paper and just want to get our facts all straight." Fancy piped up and Tate bit back a smile; she was good at this lying thing, it was like she was made for this. Shaking her head, she made herself pay attention to the teenager in front of them and watched her agree to Fancy.

"All right, but not too many. I don't know if I can handle much more today."

"We won't be long. I'd rather not do this out here, is there somewhere we can go to talk privately?" Olivia nodded and led them into what Tate figured was her room and then out a set of white French doors. Olivia dropped down onto one of the lounge chairs out there while Tate and Fancy leaned back against the balcony's railing.

"Where would you like me to start?" She asked, looking up at the two older women, wringing her hands nervously together.

"I'm not too sure yet, does anyone know exactly what happened to your mother?"

"They said it was a suicide, that my mother killed herself. But I saw her body, she looked like she was…was…" Olivia paused, tears welling up in her eyes and then took a deep breath. "…torn apart. It looked like something had attacked her. Her whole midsection was ripped to shreds. Someone can't do that to themselves." Tate nodded and carefully wrote it down on the small notepad she had, slipping back into her 'reporter' days.

"Did it look like an animal attack?"

"We only have cats in the house; they've all had their claws removed. It didn't look like Piper did it; it looked more like a tiger." Tate nodded again and over the next twenty five minutes, got more and more out of the young girl. When she decided she had enough information, Tate stood up, nodded to Fancy and walked toward Olivia.

"I know this doesn't mean much right now, but I'm sorry for your loss. And if you need anything, don't hesitate, I usually answer after the second ring." She said, handing her a slip of paper with her cell phone number on it. "If you need anything, I mean it, even if it's just to talk, call. Or if you remember anything else from last night, I mean it, call. It could help with this."

"I will. Thanks."

"Your welcome. C'mon Fance, lets go find the boys." The two said their goodbyes to Olivia and then skipped down the wooden stair case. Walking right out the front door as fast as they could, Tate let out a deep breath and searched the grounds around her for either Sam or Dean.

"Where are they?"

"I have no clue." Tate said as she raked a hand through her hair and squinted, the sun was god awfully bright as it reflected off the water.

"So what do you think happened to her mom?" Fancy asked, looking at her best friend who seemed to be in desperate need of sunglasses.

"It was a spirit."

"How do you know?"

"I could feel it, something was wrong up there."

"But you checked it with that…that…walkman thingy of Dean's and nothing came up."

"The EMF?" Fancy nodded. "I know nothing came up, but it's a feeling. You don't do this for as long as I have and not learn how to pick up on a few things. Plus, the whole Wycker thing works; I felt something weird the minute I walked in. Definitely a spirit, now whether it's the mermaid or her lover, I can't tell you. But I can tell you it was very pissed off and wanted something; that's why it did what it did to Mrs. Larkin. Damn, where's Dean and those cheap sunglasses of his? I can't see worth a damn." Tate cursed, kicked at the sandy driveway beneath her sneakers.

"You called?" Tate felt him walk up before she saw him, that was something she learned over the years too; Dean's familiar presence. Turning on her heel, she looked at him and gave him a sly grin before whipping the black wrap around sunglasses off of his head; sliding them up onto her face. "Thief."

"Jackass."

"Kids, knock it off." Tate rolled her eyes behind the dark lenses at Sam. "What did you find out in there?" It took her a minute, but Tate slowly and carefully, making sure she wasn't heard, launched into telling Sam and Dean everything Olivia had told her.

"…And the last thing she said was that a few hours before her mother was killed that everything went crazy; the waves, the wind, it was down pouring, lightning, thunder…"

"Basically you lately when you get pissed." Dean said with a smirk as Tate quickly reached out, slapping him on the chest.

"…as I was saying, all hell breaks loose and then it just stopped and her mom was dead." Sam looked at her and sighed. "I'm thinking spirit."

"Sounds right. But which one?"

"That's where I got stuck. I have no idea what's going on out here. This is crazy."

"Why don't we just go home? You can call that Jackson guy, see what he says and we'll have the computer. That and it's really hot out here and I want to go swimming." Fancy said, grinning at Sam. Tate gagged and fell against Dean's chest.

"It's happening; they're grossing me out." Dean laughed, pressed a kiss into her sun warmed hair and then led the way back down to the docks. Once back at the marina's parking lot, where the Impala and Mustang were parked; Tate and Fancy stood at the Mustang's trunk, busy throwing camera bags and the small guns they had taken with them just incase back where they belonged.

"I want to go home, grab one of Randy's beers and sit by the air conditioning."

"Sounds like a plan." Fancy agreed as they got into the front seats. Tate was just about to throw the car into reverse to follow Dean out of the parking lot, when she saw a familiar glimmer of black shadows appear in her backseat. A second later two forms appeared; Nero and Alana. The two Wyckers eyed the younger one and Tate felt a cold chill run up her spine.

"What are you two doing here?"

"We need to talk Tatum."


	14. Blame

**Ok, so same sorry excuses apply here as they do to all of my other stories and notes I've been posting; my parents got a divorce, I sided with Dear Ol' Dad and moved in with him. "Hi my name is Sam and I've become a human ping-pong ball" I've been bouncing back and forth between two different houses for almost two months; do y'all know how many scraps of stories I've lost? Way too many to count. So I finally got the internet at my new house last week, my Tate-Muse finally decided she wanted to live with me, Dad and my sister, we've been getting along great ever since. She's actually a great roommate…it's almost Friday, I have four finals coming up and the weather is absolutely gorgeous, I know I've gone insane. So anyways, its Thursday, which means Supernatural is on tonight and I am so stoked about this whole "What-If…" episode, Like I posted in Kings and Queens, I have so many ideas for this one and one involves the words "Tate" "Chet" And "Yacht" in a sentence. I know you're all on the edge of your seats going "What the hell is she rambling about? Has she finally lost her damn mind?" Its cool, I get it a lot. Anyways…In this chapter, there's some Sam/Fancy moments and I was just struck with my Fancy-Muse…yes I have two and they get along great…bffs….but they fight over the bathroom…yeah I know, I'm crazy…what was I talking about? Oh yeah…so Sam/Fancy and I was thinking, who's up for a Sam/Fancy lil one-shot? –Looks around for raised hands—Oh c'mon people, it could be fun! And I'm thinking about doing the FanFic 100 thing from LiveJournal for Tate… agree/disagree? Dude…this note has become a mini chapter, so I'll stop rambling like a crazy final stressed out college kid who's lacking precious amounts of sleep and let you guys read. BTW, love the reviews; keep 'em coming. Yours truly, a very tired and hyper B.E. **

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**Chapter 13-Blame**

"You do know what they're doing down there dontcha? Fucking blaming me for all of this." Tate moaned as she paced the length of the bedroom. Alana and Nero were down in the kitchen with Sam and Fancy "discussing" the current situation they all were in. "I know that's what they're doing, even Alana said so. She told me in the car that I came along and all hell breaks loose on the weather channel."

"Stop pacing." Dean said; he was stretched out on the bed with the remote in hand and kept flipping through the channels. Tate bit back the urge to go over there, grab the remote and smack him with it, but for some odd reason, she didn't. Raking a hand through her hair, she went back to pacing the room. "Yeah, you listen."

"Fuck you."

"That could be arranged, besides, I'm already in bed." And there was that damn smirk.

"I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah, sure you do. But seriously, stop pacing." And she did, for a brief second.

"But why wouldn't they let me down there with them unless they do think this is all my fault and they are blaming me. Why keep me up here instead of saying it to my face?" Dean rolled his eyes. "What? Why did you do that?"

"Tate, they don't want you down there because of how you're acting up here."

"How am I acting?"

"Oh I don't know, you've paced the entire room about fifteen times, cursed me out more than once and you've bitten your nails down to nothing. What else? Oh yeah, you think they're blaming you even thought you and I both know they're not." Tate starred at him for a minute, her purple eyes narrowing and bore into him; God she hated when he was actually right.

"Go to hell."

"You know I'm right."

"I know you're an asshole."

"Tate…" Looking over to him again, she cocked her eye brow and waited; what the hell did he want now? To tell her again that he was right? Once was more than enough; she didn't need to hear it again. "…come here."

"What should I?"

"Because you love me." Again, that damn smirk. There were so many times when all she wanted to do was wring his neck and this was most definitely one of those times.

"Yeah, believe me, the jury's still out on that one."

"Get your ass over here."

"Oh, I love it when you get rough with me." She squealed in an airy voice as she walked over to the bed and plopped down next to him.

"Rough huh?" He asked, leaning over only to be pushed away and held back at an arm's length.

"Easy slugger, I'm not in the mood."

"You suck."

"Quit pouting." She mumbled as she toed her boots off and stretched out alongside him. "So outside of what you originally had planned, why am I over here?"

"The pacing was getting annoying and I don't always have that planned." Tate snorted.

"Liar! Liar! God, you are such a horrible liar! You always have something planned."

"I do not. Stop it huh?" He said as she laid her head on his shoulder and sighed into his neck.

"All right, I'll stop. But Dean, if it's not me doing this, what is? I don't understand."

"We never checked behind that stone wall on that island."

"Can we go back? Dean, I don't want…."

"We go back in the morning." He told her, sitting up on his elbow so he could look down at her. Brushing back a stray piece of hair that fell from behind her ear, he realized just how red it was, it had been that violent cherry red since that damn hunt in New York.

"Why are you starring at me?"

"Just wondering when you're going to get rid of this annoying eye burning color."

"Can't, its stuck this way."

"Cut it off."

"Ha! Oh God, that's funny. No, I'm not cutting it so you're stuck looking at blood red." She said, pinching his stomach.

"Hey! That actually hurt."

"Stop being a baby and don't pout. It's not cute."

"I'll show you cute." He muttered as he shifted the two of them so his body was almost completely covering Tate's.

XXXX

Downstairs Sam heard Tate shriek, listened to it fade into a peal of giggles and rolled his eyes. Even in the worst situations they found time for _that_. He was sitting in Serena's living room, now only half listening to the conversation Alana and Nero were having. Fancy sat next to him as he threw his head back over the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose. It had taken nearly forty minutes for Alana to explain that they weren't completely blaming Tate for all the weather problems –but in some ways they were—and then she broke into this long speech about the damn Mermaid ghost crap…all Sam wanted was this case to be over so they could get back on the road and put all of this behind. But they couldn't just stop with the weather, no they had to sit and dissect every tiny aspect of the vision he had of Tate's funeral.

"Sam?"

"What Fance?"

"Do you…do you think Tate's gonna be okay?"

"Right now, seeing as I can hear them giggling up there, I say she more than okay…don't look at me like that, I was joking. I know you meant do I think she'll be okay here, during this case, and you know I do…or at least hope she will be."

"As long as she'll be okay, just keep telling me she'll be okay."

"Fancy, this is Tate King we're talking about."

"Yeah well, the Tate King I know and the Tate King you know are obviously two different people. I know a lot about her, the Boston her, but you guys have this whole hunter vision of her that I still can't grasp. But all I want is that the Boston Tate I know makes it back to Boston." Sitting up straight, Sam grabbed Fancy and pulled her close, resting his chin on top of her head. He hated seeing her upset, a good part of him had fallen in love with the crazy bartender and if keeping Tate alive meant Fancy was going to be happy; then he'd do anything to keep his vision from coming true.

"She'll be fine Fance, I promise you. I swear. You'll get your Tate back, I'll get mine and Dean'll get to keep his. Do you understand?"

"Yeah Sam, I do." Her voice sounded watery and hurt, Sam hated that. Fancy was everything Jess wasn't, where Fancy was loud, Jess was quiet and reserved. If Fancy wanted something, all she'd have to do was scream loud enough and put her mind to it. He had seen her at her bar, working and keeping the regulars at bay. She really was everything Jess wasn't. Hearing Alana walk up behind them, the woman was immortal but wasn't too good at hiding her footsteps, Sam turned to look at her and gave her half of a dark smile.

"What do you want now?"

"No need to get angry."

"Angry? Are you kidding? You and Nero sat here, blaming Tate for all of this and you don't want me to get angry?"

"We didn't blame her…" Nero piped in from the kitchen.

"Oh no, saying you haven't had a Weather Wycker in nearly two hundred years and then when Tate shows up, all of this happens…that doesn't count as blaming? I think it does."

"Sam…please. We'd like to talk to Tate about this."

"Then why didn't you just bring her down here? What, you decided to run it by me first and then bring her down later? Why me? What, do you think if I know before hand I'll be able to keep her calm? You've got the wrong Winchester."

"Well can I get the right one?" Alana asked, moving toward the stairs.

"I wouldn't go up there if I were you." Sam warned, in a sing-songy voice.

"Why?"

"You obviously don't know what happens when you lock Tate and Dean in a room together…alone, do you?" Alana blushed slightly; warm red crept up the immortal's cheeks and behind her, while Nero just coughed a looked to the floor.

"When can we go up there?"

"Whenever the giggling stops." Fancy said, looking up at them from where she sat.

XXXX

Away from the pow-wow in Serena Summers' living room, Olivia Larkin stood on her balcony and raked a hand through her hair. The sixteen year old sighed and looked back out onto the water that surrounded her home. The boats the police used to come and investigate her mother's death had all sped away hours ago and her father had returned home, done with being interrogated. Below her balcony, she could hear her father on the phone, the French doors off of his office were open and she listened in as he made the arrangements for her mother's funeral. Rolling her eyes, she walked back into her room and over to her large walk-in closet. Hidden behind a clump of party dresses that she never wore, Olivia pulled out an ornately carved wooden box and with it in her hands, sat Indian style on the floor. Opening the lid, she watched as an eerie light blue glow erupted from it and a moment later out flew the wispy form of a mermaid. The spirit hovered over her for a few seconds, taking in its surroundings and then looked down at the young girl who had summoned her. Olivia still trembled a little every time she opened the box and watched the ghost come out, but if she wanted what she wanted, there were things she'd have to do.

"You called Child?"

"Yes, I need to talk to you." Olivia said, trying not to stutter. She didn't want the mermaid to know how frightened she was.

"About what? Did your mother's death not go as you wanted it to?"

"No! No! It went fine. It's just…that girl, the one with the purple eyes…she showed up."

"You mean the one who can stop us? The girl I told you about?"

"Yes, her. She's here, but there's a problem."

"And what is that, my dear Child?" The spirit asked, wrapping its cold dead fingers around Olivia's chin in a soothing motherly manner.

"She's my best friend's older sister."

"So? Does it matter? She is getting in our way. In your way, Child."

"But she's Dani's sister."

"Then Dani is in our way too."

"Wait…are you saying? No! You can't hurt Dani!"

"As you wish Child. But the girl with the purple eyes must go."

"I can't…it'll hurt Dani. She just met her sister, I can't do that to her."

"Child, the girl will stop us. She will stop you from getting what you want. With your mother and father and that annoying cousin of yours out of the way, you can have everything we talked about. People are already paying more attention to you. And if we do not succeed, it is all that girl's fault. She will be the one to blame. And you, you will go back to just being plain old Olivia. Dani's sister must go."

"But…but…Dani's my friend."

"If she's standing in our way, then she isn't your friend." Olivia looked down at the plush beige carpet below her and twisted some of it around in her fingers for a few seconds before looking back at the mermaid's spirit.

"Fine."

"Then you know what to do Child."


	15. A Long Night

**Chapter 14-A Long Night**

Her hands were numb, her back ached in places she didn't know existed and her were beginning to burn. The sun was still hours away from coming up and the night time chill was clinging to the sally sea air around her. Tate wanted to go to bed, to go back to her mother's house and sleep the day away. But no, why would that happen? Dean had talked to Sam and the two had decided to go back to Larkin Island, so they could finally take a look at the sealed up entrance to the cave. But of course, things like that were never done in the daylight.

"Tate! Stop moving!" Dean growled as he moved a few more of the rocks. Tate and Fancy had given up helping them clear away the boulders an hour earlier and now the two of them were holding flash lights, pointing the light at Sam and Dean. Growling back at him, Tate spun the flash light in her fingers and pointed the beam of light into his eyes.

"I'm shivering! I can't help it!" She snapped back at him, her bottom lip quivering as she spoke.

"Not my fault, you should've worn something over that tank top." He told her, before going back to work. Sam stood upright, popping his shoulders and then looked back to the girls. Fancy had on one of his hoodies, of course she was swimming in it but it felt good to see a girl wearing his clothes again. And next to her, Tate stood there rubbing her bare arms; the straps from her two tanks tops slid down off of her shoulders.

"Huh, always thought you liked when I didn't wear much. Don't complain when I start dressing in layers...ass." She snapped back at him as Sam rolled his eyes. Walking over to where he and Dean had dropped their coats, he plucked Dean's leather jacket from the pile. Stepping behind Tate, he draped the heavy material over her shoulders and smiled at her in the dark.

"Tate!"

"Dean! Stop being a bitch!"

"Stop moving!"

"Shivering and I will now. Sam fixed it!" She told him as Sam went back to clearing away rocks, after he paused to kiss Fancy on the cheek. For the next forty minutes the only two who actually dared to break the silence that fell around them were Tate and Fancy; Tate was making a big deal of ignoring Dean. Moving the light, Tate placed it upon the opening they had dug out and nodded; it was big enough for them to walk through.

"Tae, what do you think?" Sam asked as he pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah it's good. Let's get this over with." She said, handing Dean the flash light and started walking into the cave. Tate had taken one step inside when she felt a cold prickle run down her spine, something was shifting. The air in the cave had been stagnate when they first walked in, but now it was alive and heavy with static.

"Tate, you're not doing that are you?" Fancy asked from behind her.

"No. Why would I be?"

"Everything is just so...tense." She said as Dean dropped a hand onto Tate's arm, only to pull it back like he had been burned; the static shock was back in her skin.

"Tate?"

"I can feel it, but I don't know what it is. Lets just do what we came to do and get out of here." Stepping out of their reach, Tate pulled Dean's jacket tighter around her and walked deeper inside.

Like Jackson has said, the Mariner's bones were close to the back wall, but what was hanging above his skeleton made her gasp. She had seen real monsters, ghosts, haunted houses and the occasional pain in the ass demon, but she had never seen the remains of a mermaid. The body had been hung upside down with three nails driven into the tail. It looked like a fish tale, but seemed to have no bones in it, the scales hadn't rotted away but the color had faded; to Tate it looked like they had been red but now were a muted brown. What shocked her more was the body from the waist up. It was identical to the upper portion of a normal human skeleton; spine, rib cage, shoulders, collar bone, arms, hands and a top of the spine was the skull. Her facial structure had been sharper, especially her cheek bones, and her eye sockets were narrower. On her withered fingers were rings encrusted with tiny shells and jewels. Several thin gangly pieces of long black hair fell from the top of her skull.

"Is that…that…?"

"Yeah, it is." Tate whispered, filling the words in for Fancy.

"Holy shit." Watching Dean walk toward it, Tate's hand stretched out and her long fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Dean, don't. I don't think we should touch it."

"We need to burn it."

"I'm not sure if we should. It doesn't feel right."

"So we're not going to burn it?" Sam asked, putting his bag on the ground, the lighter fluid sticking out.

"Yes we are."

"No, we're not. It doesn't feel right. I saw we leave it alone." Tate said, glaring at Dean and then walked past him, something had caught her eyes. Making her way past the bones, Tate cocked an eye brow at the willowy red curtain and pushed it back. In a small alcove she found an alter; on top of the table were a collection of tiny bones, a vile of blood, sea salt and a handful of shells. Walking over to it, Tate plucked a silver chair out of a shallow bowl; from the chain hung a silver 'A' lined with gold.

"What's that?"

"Sam, what was Ed Larkin's wife named?"

"Abigail."

"Abigail starts with an 'A'. Someone's summoning the spirit." Fishing through the bowl, Tate found the ring her father gave her for her twelfth birthday, it had been her mother's, amongst the other items. "What the hell? How'd that get here?"

"I don't know, take it though. Whoever is summoning the spirit is using personal belongings to go after selected people." Slipping the ring into her pocket, Tate ran a shaky hand through her hair and leaned back against the cool rock wall. Standing there clearing her thoughts, she felt a breeze coming in through the rock. Turing around, Tate felt her way along the wall until she found a gap big enough for a person to slip through.

"Tae?"

"Go get Dean and Fance and meet me outside."

"How…"

"I'm going out this way, follow me." Slipping out through the gap, Tate found herself standing out on the beach in the middle of an overgrown path. Scrub and other plants grew into the dirt path and on either side was palm trees shot up around her. Following the path out of the maze of palms trees, Tate wound up under Olivia Larkin's balcony. She felt the weather shift again and this time, she shifted it back. With her eyes closed, she stopped the on coming thunder clouds and the sky cleared over head.

"_Strong, Little One. Very strong." _

Shaking off the chill, Tate turned back in time to see Dean, Sam and Fancy walk up. The static still spilled off her, the electricity flew off of her and cause her hair to stand on end; red neon sparkling in the pale blue light.

"Well?" Dean asked, looking at her.

"I think we need to ask Dani about her friend Olivia."

When they got back to Serena's house, Tate, Fancy, Sam and Dean trudged into the living room and dropped onto the couches. As Dean sat there with one foot on the coffee table, Tate put her head in his lap and tugged his jacket around her again.

"I'm exhausted."

"Exhausted? What did you do?" Dean snapped, a smirk on his face as he looked down at her and threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging it out of its rubber band.

"Hey! We held flash lights!" Fancy squealed, falling back against Sam's shoulder. The four of them fell into a comfortable silence and slowly slid under the wave of sleep. When Dani came down a few hours later, she laughed at the sight before her; Sam and Fancy had stretched out on the couch together and Tate still had her head in Dean's lap while he had his head thrown back over the couch.

"Why are they all down here?" Startled by her father's voice, Dani turned to look at him and shrugged.

"Dunno. Late night, I guess."


	16. A Welcome Arrow through the Heart

**Like I've said before, no hissing, booing or throwing things at your computer screen that are really meant for my head. This took way too long, but I finally set everything up the way I wanted to. Yes, this is a lot different than what I originally planned and yes, it doesn't have many people other than Tate in it, but I did that on purpose. Or at least I hope I did...eh. Anyways, this is finally the last chapter of Winds. Holy crap, thank god. I was afraid I'd never get it done. Or I'd still be writing it in October and it would be a year. Umh...hell no. Not again. I'm gonna post an author's note along with this to explain everything. Hope you guys like this and if you're anything like me, you're doing a very tired happy dance in your seat because Winds is finally done. Keep reading and reviewing.--B.E**

* * *

**Chapter 15- A Welcome Arrow through the Heart**

Her life flashed before her eyes, with each bright burst of light another memory slid on by. Each memory played out in front of her like a tiny movie clip and somehow, she couldn't stop it.

_Age Four_

It was the first time she had ever broken anything and the very first bone just happened to be her left wrist. Garrett laughed at her when she got stuck with a neon pink cast. The second day she had it; she made him cry when she swung her arm and caught him in the leg. Her twin had a bruise the shape of her forearm for almost a month.

_Age Six_

Her father took them all camping. While he was setting up the tent and her and Garrett were playing, someone screamed in the woods. And right away she knew it was her mother. The park rangers never found her body, only bloody tracks, bits and pieces of her clothing and odd claw marks. Her father knew exactly what they were and called his friend John. That same year, the moving around started.

_Ages Six through Ten_

Those memories all blurred together, just like the scenery did through the back window of her dad's Mustang. Every day was the same; car, roadside diner, hotel, back in the car the next morning. Rinse and repeat.

_Age Ten_

She met the Winchester boys for the first time. Right off the bat, she liked the youngest, Sam. But Dean, Dean she could so live without. The first night they spent with them, she threw a G.I Joe at his head and laughed when he threw it back at her, only to miss her by a mile. But her smiled faded when her father told her they'd be traveling with the Winchesters for a while. A while turned into most of her life, but she didn't know that back then.

_Age Fourteen_

Her father let her tag along on a hunt for the first time, something simple, just an angry spirit. She didn't get to shoot anything or whatever, but she did get to read some kind of trapping spell in Latin. Dean didn't get to go because John had grounded him; how grounding him and living in a different hotel room everyday worked was beyond her, but all she knew was she was there and he wasn't. That morning, when she trudged into her bedroom bone tired and ready to pass out, Dean was sitting on the end of her bed waiting for her. Before she could kick him out, he leapt to his feet and kissed her. It wasn't the best kiss, they didn't know exactly what to do with their lips and he even bit her a couple times, but it was kiss none the less. It was wet, sloppy but she was too tired to really notice and didn't have much to compare it to.

Three weeks later, when her, Garrett, Sam and Dean were enrolled in some local school, Danny Hart kissed her down by the track and it was ten times better.

_Up Until Age Eighteen_

She had been with Dean since a few weeks after her fifteenth birthday and finally, after too much whining on Dean's part, John lets the two of them take the Impala out. She asked it was a date and Dean of course told her no, but they went to the almost run down drive-in and made out in the front seat like…well teenagers. When the movie ended, they drove down to some small lake they had found while exploring and wound up in the backseat…well like teenagers. It was messy, she bumped her knee cap on the front seat and Dean almost fell on top of her more than once, but it still happened.

By the time December rolled around, she was an only child, her brother was dead, Sam was crushed and Dean was left cursing at her tail lights as she flew down the highway in her father's—well by that time it was hers—cherry red Mustang.

_Age Twenty-Three_

She had been laid up in the hospital with a punctured lung, six broken ribs, a cracked collar bone, shattered orbital bone and a broken leg. The Mustang was in the shop too, it needed a new front end. Head on collision. Fancy was the only person who knew about that.

_Age Twenty-Six_

There had been something—it turned out to be a ghost—killing college students in photography class darkrooms. And she knew, the moment that article came across her desk that she had to pass it along to Sam and Dean. She just never expected them to drag her back into the mess.

_  
"But you seem to know a little more about it than me and Sam do, please Tate before someone else dies."_

"_I'll think about it, give me a day or so."_

"_I'll call you back tomorrow, same time."  
_

She knew the minute Dean hung up that she was going back to everything she had run away from. And really, she wasn't that scared about it.

_Age Twenty-Eight_

She saw the spirit; floating just above the small wooden chest it had been hiding in, lash out. With one of it's misty, barely corporeal arms, it caught her in the midsection and sent her flying. She heard Dean and Sam shouting, both at her and the spirit, and then heard Fancy's blood curdling shriek before her back connected with something. A familiar crack of bone that was closely followed by a thump were the last things she remembered hearing

_Age Twenty-Eight, ten months, fifteen days, twelve hours and forty-two seconds_

Blinking away what had been a slide-show of her life, Tate forced her eyes to stay open and stared up into a pair of purple eyes much like her own. Her back throbbed with each ragged breath she took and all she wanted to do was sit up. Propping herself up on her elbows, she hissed as the pain shot through her like a bullet and winced; she was sitting up even if it killed her.

"Easy tiger. Easy." She knew that voice, it was Griffin. He was the same Wycker that had saved Dean back when they were in New York; that explained the purple eyes. What ever had happened to her, he had fixed. And as she looked a little longer at him, she noticed the red tint to his hair. "Take it easy. Lay back down."

"Stop treating me like a child Griffin. Let go." She snapped, brushing his hands off of her shoulders and took another stab at sitting up. This time she made it and nearly cried when she bent at the waist; God her back hurt.

"It's supposed to hurt, you nut! You broke your back!" He growled, looking down at her.

"Screw off Griff." She snarled as she pushed her hair back off of her face. "I like your eyes by the way; purple is a good look for you."

"Shut up. Since you're already sitting, do you think you can stand?" He asked softly, sticking a hand out for her. Pulling herself up, Tate stood toe to toe with him and looked around; she knew where she was. It was the same place she had been brought when she first had met Griffin; the same room that looked like where you felt the most safe. And right now, it looked like her apartment.

"So, why am I here?"

"You don't remember? Tate, don't you remember what happened?"

"Of course I do! Me, Sam, Dean and Fance went over to the Larkin place to talk to Olivia, but she must've known we were coming because the minute we got onto that damn island we were attacked by her pet ghost. That damn mermaid. Bitch threw me into a wall when I tried to grab her little music box, chest thing away from Olivia."

"That's the last thing?"

"I remember I went flying, Sam and Dean were yelling and Fancy screamed. And then I hit something, something broke and that's the end."

"You died." He said matter-of-factly. Tate felt like she had been punched in the gut. "Didn't you get it? The whole life flashing before your eyes crap? You died!"

"So wait….am I dead?"

"Right now?"

"Yes right now jackass!"

"Have a look." The best way Tate could ever think to describe what she saw would be as an out of body experience. She was looking down at the beach, where she had been tossed into the rock wall like a rag doll. Her body was bent at an odd angle, legs splayed out one way, her back arched into an impossible arch and her neck twisted to the other side, her body looked like an S.

"…Shit."

"Yeah, shit." Griffin mimicked, running a hand through his somewhat red hair.

"Okay, I have a couple questions."

"I figured." Tate reached out and slapped him, before muttering 'asshole' under her breath.

"Am I dead?"

"Not really."

"Am I alive?"

"Not really."

"Griffin! You gotta give me more than that!"

"Down there, with the broken neck and back, you're deader than dead, but right now, you have a choice to make."

"And what choice would that be, smartass?" She growled, dropping a hand onto her hip.

"You can either, die right now or…"

"Or what? Make it quick buddy friend."

"Or, if you'd let me finish, I can take away your powers and let you go back down there."

"Take away my powers?"

"Tate, something is dead down there and so something has to stay dead, now should it be Real Tate or Wycker Tate? You decide." Dropping down onto what was supposed to be the coffee table in her living room, Tate rested her elbows on her knees and propped her chin up on her palms.

"What happens if I give them over to you? Do I forget you, Alana and Nero exist or what?"

"You won't forget and you'll have some form of your power left, just a teeny tiny bit of it. You'll still be able to find us if you need us."

"Here's the thing Griff, I don't want you to send me back down there with them."

"What do you mean? Where do you want me to send you?"

"Take my body, make it look like it disappeared and just have them bury an empty box. I don't want to go back there."

"Why?"

"Can't you respect the Dead's final wishes? Jesus." She growled, and out what was supposed to be her window and the Boston sky line, the clouds over head grumbled. If she decided to live, she wouldn't be able to do that anymore.

"No, you won't be able to."

"Get out of my head Griff. I'm serious."

"But why don't you want to go back? Does this have to do with Dean?"

"Everything has to do with Dean. But I want a fresh start, ya know? And if I have to 'die' to make that happen, than so be it."

"All right, you do have a point there. Where am I going to send you?"

"Back to Boston. I'll deal with things from there."

"So no more powers?"

"No more powers."

"Shake on it." Eyeing the man in front of her warily, she gingerly stood and extended her hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around his wrist. A blast of white hot pain tore through her, flying up and down the length of her arm, down her back, through her legs and up her spine. Tate could feel her eyes rolling back in her head and knew the ground would be getting closer any second now. When the ground did meet her, the pain seared through her back and slowly, a black haze began to inch in on her vision.

Back in Boston, almost a month after the whole Griffin and minus powers incident, Tate padded around her apartment, dropping things into a duffle bag as she went and reached around on her bed until she found her cordless phone. Her back still hurt and the morning after meeting with Griffin, her neck was so stiff she could barely move it, but other than that, it was like nothing had happened. She hadn't heard from Dean, Sam or Fancy, it was like they had dropped off the face of the Earth along with her. She knew the bar had been reopened; she had driven past it the other day on her way downtown, when she had started packing. A new case had come up and she jumped. Time to get on that fresh start. Punching in a familiar number, she listened to the purr of the ring and then sighed when someone finally picked up.

"Fancy's, this is Piper speaking." Piper? Who the hell was that?

"Yeah, is Fancy up yet?" Tate asked, not caring why the girl was answering the phone.

"She is, may I ask who's calling?"

"A friend, just put her on."

"I need to know…"

"Put her on the damn phone." She growled and heard the girl mutter something about getting her. A second later the phone changed hands.

"This is Fancy."

"Fance, it's me. It's Tate." She heard her best friend's sharp intake of breath and bit down on her lip. It had been a month, a month since her "funeral" in Florida like Sam had predicted, a month since everyone had started to accept that she really was gone and now, she was calling her.

"Who the hell is this? This isn't fucking funny."

"Fance, calm down. It's really me."

"No! This isn't funny! Who are you? I want to know now!"

"Fance…"

"NO! You don't call me, telling me you're my dead best friend and then ask me to calm down. Who is this?"

"Francesca Miora! Calm the hell down and listen to me!"

"Oh my God…Tate?"

"Who else knows your middle name besides your brothers?"

"No one. Not even Sam. Jesus Tate! I'm gonna fucking kill you! It's been a month! Where the hell are you?"

"At my place."

"It's been a month and you're five minutes away? I swear to God, I'm really gonna kill you!"

"Fance, I'll explain everything later. I just wanted to check in with you before I head out."

"Where are you going? Can I come? Please."

"No. Not this time. And besides, it's just a simple find it and burn it case. I'll be back in a week or so. I promise."

"If you don't show back up in two weeks, I'm gonna come find you and really murder you. What the hell happened? I saw you…you were…ya know…"

"Dead. I know. But I'm not so we're good." Tate said, laughing a little.

"It's not funny. I've been going crazy without you. Sam doesn't know what to do with himself. Your dad is a mess, so is John. And Dean…"

"Dean's Dean. I can feel it."

"How'd you know?"

"Fance, I've known him since we were ten. He's acting like he's fine, but talk to Sam. He'll tell ya."

"I know, I do. I talk to him almost every night."

"Things sound good with you guys."

"Things are good. I've missed you."

"You too Fance. Look, promise me something."

"Anything. What?"

"Don't tell Sam and Dean I'm okay, okay?"

"Why not? They deserve to know."

"Not right yet, okay? When I'm ready. After this case."

"After this one and when you get back, you're making the phone call from the bar."

"Deal."

"Good. So, where are you going now?"

"Dallas."

**The End**

* * *

**_Click the next chapter button and read the author's note. It'll clear up a lot. --B.E_**


	17. Note

**Hey Guys!!**

If you're here, you must've finished Winds and decided to check this mess out. I have a lot I want to say and explain and since I'm falling asleep as I type this, I want to make it as quick and painless as possible. First off, Winds took way too damn long. I know I think it did and if you feel the need to say so, believe me, I agree. Sorry about that. The story took off in about fifty different directions, forty-nine too many by the way, and I ended it the way I did so I could bring everyone back to one point.

Yes, Winds is over. Yes, I have another Dark story. No, I am not posting it today or tomorrow. I'm aiming for late October/November. Plus, I want to do a story inbetween Dark Winds and Dark Haze(the new one) called the Holiday; that's the title right now, by the time I post it, it could change. And no, it's not like the chick flick. And then I want to do something about Tate's father Ben and explain her back story. It'll be called The King's Crusade.

I love her last name, there are so many things I can do with it. hehe.

Speaking of Kings, Kings and Queens will be updated more often now and hopefully soon, I'll take Grim Beauty off hold. And to add to that list, I have about ten one-shots I want to post, including a Dark story one-shot.

Ok, I think I've explained enough for one night. Hope this makes up for everything.  
--B.E


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